Shadows Through Glass
by just1tearforme
Summary: Rodney finds himself in a strange new world, the result of events not even he could control. The Atlanteans find themselves without a scientist and they want him back, but first he must survive the darkest days of time past.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Darkness

Shivers coursed through me even as I clutched my tattered jacket around me. Curled up on a rough slab masquerading as a bed ignoring the pulses of pain, it was harder to shut out the groans and cries of pain floating around me. Even in the dark it's hard to escape the reality of the situation, I had been gone for ten days, the prisoner of people I barely knew. And I wasn't the only one; there were hundreds, perhaps thousands trapped behind walls and gates. We crowded by the dozens into barracks of the loosest description sharing bunks that rose to the ceiling, all having the same experience.

We had all been grabbed in the middle of night at weapon point, taken far from the cities, villages, and towns, and stuffed into compartments jammed so tight there was only room to stand. There had been not water or food or any semblance of toilet facilities for many hours, days I -- we came to find out later. The compartments had been completely enclosed so no sliver of light entered or breath of fresh air. Any new prisoners that joined us only came in the night, adding to the loss of time. When they finally released us, it was out onto a grassy platform behind one set of gates and in front of another eyes watering and blinking as we stepped into the sun. Our only possessions and clothes, the things that had been attached to our person before capture were stripped away within an hour of arrival. The guards sorted all of us, men, women, and children into lines. Two lines, two gates, two separate sides of the prison.

When they took my clothes from me I tried to conceal my headset. One of the guards shoved me to the ground and kicked me with spiked boots. A second grabbed my fingers, screaming at me words I couldn't understand or answer, feeling the spikes of the boot stab into my flesh and slide out repeatedly took over my senses. One by one, he pulled each finger back. I remember the _snap_ and the pain but not the words he said. I passed out – fuck manly hunger, I fainted from the lack of food and pain, mostly the pain. Two other prisoners were dragging me to the left line when I came to, neither looked at me while they did it. Struggling and shouting, I fought against them. I didn't want to go to the left side. I could see the long line of people snaking through the gate and beyond amongst the green leaves of young trees. The silence of that side terrified me, no sound emanated from any of the prisoners, there were no birds, no ambient background that's inescapable in any part of life. It was quiet; it was death. The two bearers dropped me, one catching the now broken fingers as my wrist slid through his grasp.

A guard with the toe of her boot lifting my chin looked me over like a dog does its dinner. She sneered, gesturing with her head back to the other line. Pain flared through my entire arm, she had stepped on my hand, grinding it into the dirt with her heel. Weakly my hand was pulled to my chest protectively as I rejoined the line naked and last. I did not dawdle through the gate, which slammed shut with a heavy resounding clang behind me. Half the guards were behind me, close enough to feel their breath on my shoulders and the whispers passed between them. I was screwed, I was so screwed.

We were shoved by the dozens into stone buildings and doused with scalding water and the equivalent of bleach. No guards accompanied us but they waited on both sides watching those who went and those who came out. We were forced into single file lines, threaded through a maze of tables to receive rough clothes and crude physicals. The "doctors" looked us over like cattle at best, and the most worthless piece of garbage more often than not. Eyes, ears, mouths, nose, heart were all checked. Those found lacking were escorted sometimes dragged to the other side. One woman struggled, fighting off her guard and shrieking as she tried to run. They set dog type things after her; they ripped her to shreds, her screams dying with a gurgle in her throat. The guards only laughed like it was a sport to them. Most of the other prisoners looked away, staring intently at their feet, toes digging in the dirt. I watched hoping that she might escape, praying that she would. That perverse hope died with a whimper like her.

As dusk approached more guards appeared toting weapons, some technologically advanced, others primitive and classic in some respects. The guard who had crushed my fingers beneath her boot heel held the thick handle of a bullwhip in her hand, a cat o'nine tails dangled from her belt the ends tipped with metal. They gathered us in blocks, twelve rows by twelve columns. We were now barrack mates. Then one guard climbed up onto the platform in front of us. His uniform did not need decoration, of which there was none, to signify that he was in charge of the establishment.

"You are all prisoners here." He said eyeing each and every block. "Some are political prisoners, others are enemies, and some of you are here for no other reason than you were the ones taken. However, none of that matters for you are all prisoners and you are ours. There is no escape; anyone attempting to flee will be dealt with severely. We will treat you as we like. We will do with you as we wish, how and when we wish it. Just because you are prisoners does not mean your life is free, when you are not selected for special purpose you will work. You receive food and shelter that is the extent of our mercy."

Many of the guards began to snicker, some tapping their weapons against their hands. Growls emanated from the dog creatures and they snapped indiscriminately at any prisoner.

He continued on. "Furthermore, your names mean nothing. Identifications will be assigned; it is what you will answer to. Every morning you will stand in your blocks for presentation and counting, those not appearing will be punished – all will be punished. Any of these soldiers are to be addressed as 'Comm' and only as such; and you will not speak until spoken to. There is no deviation; any insolence will be met with the severest punishment. All vestiges of the past are gone, there is only here and now. You are ours. _Tauhn da._"

At that, every soldier pulled a hood over their head so only their eyes and mouth were visible. In twos and threes they advanced on each block firing shots into the air and turning the dogs loose. We tried to run but a panicked herd of people only ended with injury. Many in the middle fell to be trampled by those of us following. I tried to help a young woman up, her head bloodied from a cut near her temple. The sting of the cat o'nine raked across my arm to the shoulder and part of my back. Crying out only earned more blows ripping my skin open. She finally wobbled to her feet and stumbling we joined the rest of the block.

"Thank you." She whispered eyes darting furtively at the guards.

We were forced into another line; several of the block were drafted to bring tables, chairs, and boxes. Another group of prisoners emerged from one of the central buildings, splitting off into groups of four. Each sat at a table pulling out needles, ink pots, and other accoutrements. The first four of our block were forced to their knees at the table. Efficiently their sleeves were pulled up, forearm-left bared. One Comm called out a series of numbers prefaced with two letters, each tattooist responded "Yes Comm" after receiving an identification. The Comm made notes about the tattooed, who, once finished was pushed into the barrack.

"Could you sterilize that?" I asked when it came to my turn. It was stupid but who knew what diseases my block mates had, or those the needles had been used on previously. The crack of a club across my shoulders was the reward. I clenched my jaw, screwing my eyes shut as the needle tapped out symbols into my fair skin. Only when the Comm pushed me away did I dare to look. I was no longer Rodney McKay, I was now KV89603.

I remember places like this; I remember my world history. Thousands of prisoners all collected in camps for various reasons. One part of the prison completely silent, devoid of everything but the smell of flesh burning. (The smell did come, later that night and on into the next days.) Detainees forced to work, to bury the dead. All it needed was "Arbeit Macht Frei". It was the Pegasus version of Auschwitz-Birkenau. And I was trapped in it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Walk in Darkness

Unceremoniously, I had been hauled from my bed; outside dawn was barely breaking over the horizon. Joints popped and shifted as I stretched desperate to alleviate the ache that was beginning to settle into my bones. Even in the thin shadows of twilight I could see my breath and the puffs from those around me. A hiss escaped as my feet hit the floor; they had neglected to give us shoes. On my back I could feel the crust of dried blood; I had probably ripped open the wounds while sleeping. In little places the shirt had clotted to the skin which ripped off when I moved. I really didn't want to think of what I was being exposed to for it would only creep me out further. All around me my block mates were filing out into the chilly morning air. "Move it," someone above me called impatient and angry. Forcing my slowly numbing feet to move I too stumbled out in the central yard.

The camp was spacious, groups of barracks clustered together in little rows on their own worn path streets. Ours had the dubious honour of being closest to the yard while others were farther, perhaps 500 meters away. I, for one, was incredibly grateful to the location, I didn't have to walk on exposed feet over cold ground. I could count nine barracks but as the roads stretched out further into the fading darkness black shapes emerged, most likely more barracks. The mists of morning dissipated slowly revealing more of the camp than I had had the chance to look at before. We were behind more fences than I realized and close to the center of camp. More fences and gates squared out planes of existence to our new world. Just beyond the last barrack on our street was a gated fence emblazoned with a sign. I had no idea what it said, I was too far away, but it was definitely a warning of some kind. The far left side of the yard also stopped at a gate, the Comms emerging from buildings just beyond. They had more dogs with them, straining at the leashes in frantic lunges as if they could already taste our flesh. Hurriedly, I joined the assembled block with the rest of the stragglers.

I had not eaten properly for several days, living off a rationed Powerbar while stuck in the compartment during transport. True, I had no idea where I was, but with fair certainty it wasn't the planet I had started out on. How we had been transported off world without realizing I didn't know, but then again there were many things I didn't know about this situation. My stomach growled at me, quite angrily reminding me of the lack of food. The man beside me heard it, the glance he dared pass at me told that he knew the feeling too. We stood in our lines, straight as little soldiers as the Comms entered the yard. They said not a word as they passed amongst the blocks inspecting them with disproving eyes. I couldn't differentiate between them; the only distinguishing characteristic was body size. None of them had visible signatures of breasts, either they were concealing all recognizable forms of identity or they were a differ set of Comms from previous.

One Comm stood at the head of each block while the others began to count each member. They passed through the rows once, twice, three times all the while mumbling counts to themselves. One stopped, "One's missing!" A ripple went through all the blocks. Heads rose looking about in alarm; the Comms paused, hands going to weapons as they gathered in the spaces between the blocks. The dogs snapped and barked as if they knew what had been said. After a moment they separated back to each block with one drawing out a set of papers from their uniform. He began to call out IDs for our block. No one replied, at least not loud enough to be heard. Comms began stalking through the block searching for the owner of the ID. They grabbed arms, pushing the sleeve up and exposing tattoos until they found the woman. She was dragged from her spot spouting fervent apologies in front of the head Comm.

"BT89524, you will answer when spoken to." The head Comm snarled hitting her in the stomach with a club.

"Yes Comm. I'm sorry Comm." She whimpered.

"Come now," he said. It was then I knew that he was indeed male. The purr, the ability to make himself heard by the whole block all hallmarks of a man disarming his prey. "I'm not without mercy." He stuck out a foot. "Kiss my feet and ask for forgiveness. I will grant you that mercy." She fell to her knees kissing the boot profusely and crying out for absolution and compassion. He pulled out a gun, pressed it to her forehead and pulled the trigger. Those in the front were spattered with brain and blood. "You see? Mercy." The gun was holstered as he pushed her away with the toe of his boot. "Finish the count and then take care of that."

I swallowed hard, choking back the need to scream and the urge to retch. Someone a few rows up did retch, falling to their knees and vomiting in the dirt. The Comm made him clean it up with his mouth. All around him the other Comms laughed, we were sport for them. Slowly, they would make us something less than human.

The sun was high in the sky flogging us with its rays by the time they finished the count. Sweat dripped down my face into my eyes; it also soaked through my shirt jacket. People and the ground swam in front of my eyes, little sparkles dancing across my vision. I wasn't the only one effected, others were swaying on their feet while a few had fallen – fainted.

"Come on," someone said placing a hand on my shoulder in guidance. He pushed me towards the gate. Tables had been set up, staffed by prisoners. Piled with mounds of bread and steaming pots it looked like heaven. The servers were not of our group, their rough, haggard appearance bespoke of their tenure here. I don't know where they slept, most likely some other part of the camp. Now, I knew the camp was much larger than previously conceived. We hadn't seen even half the facility, probably no more than an eighth in all. A bowl was shoved into my hand, some of the hot soup sloshed onto my stomach. The server did not look at me. Neither did the bread woman. I took my food, holding it tightly to my chest and found a spot away from the fence but no where close to the center of the yard. I had no spoon but it didn't matter. I slurped the soup, really flavoured hot water with bits of green stuff that tasted like cabbage. In another time it might have tasted like crap, but at this moment it was beyond paradise. The bread was bland and sat heavily in my stomach but it still tasted good.

A shadow fell across my vision. I tensed, trying to see out of the corner of my eye. "Not Comm." The caster said taking a seat beside me. The voice I recognized, it was the person who guided me to the food. He ate his soup quickly too, slurping with gusto. The bread he tore into pieces, one piece he ate and the other he tucked away. "For later. In case." He murmured. He cocked his head, looking me over. "Bankha."

It took me a moment but I understood. "Rodney." A whistle blew; the Comms were rounding all of us up.

"Here," Bankha whispered holding out his hand. "Just in case." It was half his bread.

We were split into groups, the two largest sent out beyond the gates winding through camp. More older prisoners accompanied us, they did not speak or look at anyone except the person in front of them. Twenty Comms accompanied us, fifteen more were waiting out in the fields. Bankha and I were sent to the far end of a cleared field to move stones. My left hand with fingers swollen to where they looked like sausages rather than fingers and an angry shade of black mottled blue I still carried protectively near my chest. The fingers weren't even straight anymore, not that you could really tell with the swelling. The Comm didn't even look at me when the job was assigned and I didn't risk saying anything for who knew how they would react. I could be killed like BT89524 without thought or care. Sighing, I followed Banhka towards the far end of the field.

One Comm watched over us and the two man plow team turning over more of the field. A stone was really more like a small boulder, I could see why they sent two of us. However, our guard had other ideas. The whip cracked across our backs as we strained to move one rock. I tried to explain, to reason with Comm. It got me seven more stripes instead. Bankha moved away to another stone telling me to let it go. He got two more stripes and reprimanded not to talk period.

It was back breaking work. Most of the stones could be carried if held close to the chest and cradled by my arm, but only short distances before it slipped from my grasp. The other stones required pushing, it was the only way, lifting was impossible unless maybe your name was Ronon Dex and even then it still might be nearly unmanageable. Your feet sank into the soft earth as you leaned into the rock with all your might to push it a few inches. Every twig, pebble, and insect you felt with your toes; we hadn't been given shoes yet. Some of the objects were sharp, my blood mixing in with the dirt both staining a mucky brown. The only way to describe myself was drenched in sweat. The clothes clung to me like a second skin. They were dirty and tattered from the work, not in the best shape to begin with either. The rough cotton twisted around my neck like a noose, a soggy, wet noose. Some of the others opposite the field had dug deep enough to find water. It was ugly brackish stuff but they drank it, it was not an opportunity we had to share.

"You!" the Comm shouted. "Come here. Here's another job for you."

Obediently, I trudged over not wanting to earn anymore stripes for my collection. "Yes Comm?"

"Pile the stones, make a wall."

"You can't be serious!" I retorted, it had burst out of me before I knew what I had said. "You're insane!" I stared at him straight in the eyes. Vision exploded in my left eye and I found myself knocked in to the dirt the injured hand caught beneath me. Carefully I probed the area as I sat up. My fingertips drew away bloody. I had caught myself on a rock on the way down. "Oh this is just great!" I snarled. "It's going to get infected. Where's one of those voodoo dealers you call doctor?"

"SILENCE!"

Crappity crap crap crap. This was so not good. The handle of the whip crashed into my head just above the ear and for a moment I saw stars. A hand reached out, grabbing the collar of my shirt hauling me to my feet. Grey eyes bored furiously into mine. I was so close to the Comm's face I could feel the air sweeping past as they inhaled. "You do not look at me prisoner. I am your better, you are nothing. You will be quiet. Pile. The. Stones. Make. A. Wall."

"Yes Comm," I replied softly.

Not long in to twilight my muscles felt like jelly. The ache of my hand had settled in and was slowly creeping up the arm. Yet somehow I had managed to push the heaviest stones into forming the base of the wall running about a third of the field. The rocks I could lift were placed on top filling in the gaps and building it higher. Bankha had given me what little help could be afforded, placing the stones into two piles. The piles had gown steadily as the day carried on, it didn't seem like I was making a dent in them at all. The others had been rounded up and lead back towards the camp, the Comms snickering as they beat the stragglers along the way. Yet I had remained, the Comm overseeing us had held me back, the handle of their whip across my chest. Not you, I had been told, I was to finish my work. Thirsty, sweat soaked, hungry and running on the last shred of energy remaining I turned back to work. One stone, then two, then rest against a third as I pretended to push it. Rest didn't last long before the whip came dancing down on me. My shirt ripped and I felt the sting on my flesh. I carried on.

Progress slowed considerably until the point that I could barely push a stone a few inches let alone lift one. Darkness had fallen shrouding the field in inky night. A lantern had been brought out for the Comm as well as a chair to ease and comfort. The light shed only reached so far into the dark, not nearly far enough for me to see my path from the stone pile to the wall. The Comm laughed every time I stumbled and tripped. I had fallen so often I stopped trying to protect my hand, there was no use, it flared in pain regardless. I leaned – sagged against the stone, there was no more energy left to stand. I felt myself beginning to slide to the dirt lightheaded and exhausted. For a moment I was content to the lay there, only for a moment. I did not want to be left out in the night with only a stone for my comfort and a Comm as my companion. Slowly I brought myself to hand and knees and crawled to the Comm.

"Please Comm," I cried lowering my head to boot. "Let me rest." In tense silence I waited, sweat dripping down my forehead and onto the dirt dusted black toe. The quiet dragged on, eating away at me. Finally the boot pushed me away to gather Comm's things. Tears began to fall down my cheeks in relief as I struggled to stand. The Comm followed behind me as I trudged slowly, stumbling and falling many times along the way. The light of the lantern illuminated my path, swinging in time with our steps and holding steady when I went down on my knees. Every stumble I expected to feel the kiss of the whip but it never came which was perhaps the cruelest torture of all. The lights in the barracks were all out by the time we reached the yard. The Comm unceremoniously shoved me inside my barrack before locking the door behind. "Rodney!" Bankha cried springing from the nearest bunk. He wrapped an arm around me, guiding me to the bed. My body gave way to the blissful darkness that had been clinging at the edges of my vision the whole walk back before my head even hit the slab.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three Hallucinations of Darkness

For two days I went out into the field, and everyday the wall grew just a little more. And those two days I missed dinner every night. Even though it was weak soup it was still the best thing I had tasted. My hypoglycemia was starting to become an issue, the bread I save at breakfast/lunch and swallowed quickly before falling into sleep barely staved off the effects but just barely. More stripes decorated my body as well, some on my back, arms, back of my thighs, mostly on my back. A few had been inflicted hard enough to welt and split. Spots of brown dried blood dotted my clothes much like many others in the block. I was sweat-caked and dirt streaked, there was no water with which to wash. The wounds I could see were edged pink, angry bright pink that was warm to the touch. Several others, Enzic and Gusweb, two of my bunkmates among them, had received the worst beatings. They were flushed and warm to the touch, infection had set it. Enzic had begun fainting, sweating profusely. Gusweb and Bankha carried her out for the morning count.

Our block was down to one hundred forty-two, a prisoner had died yesterday. The Comms screamed out IDs, forcing us to stand for hours as they recounted and searched our barrack tearing the bunks down. They couldn't have been the Comms in the field or they had drunk all memory of the day away. No one remembered he had died in the field yesterday, it was an accident. He was part of a digging team building the irrigation canals. The dirt in the new trench was soft, the walls collapsed on top of the crew. Unfortunately, he was the poor bastard who got stepped on as the others scrambled out. He suffocated, buried alive. The Comms forced the crew back to work, the body laid out and ignored on the side. Only as the blocks were going in for the evening was he remembered. Two older prisoners were sent, retrieving the body. They carried it into the left camp and disappeared among the trees. Perverse curiosity drove us to wonder what that side was like. We found out later we would never know until we saw it ourselves for their tongues had been cut out.

Finally Bankha spoke, "Comm, he is dead – died in the field yesterday sir."

The Comm did not say anything; he had been wrong and shown up by a prisoner. It was obvious he was seething at looking stupid and by a lowly captive no less. "There will be evening counts." It was announced. 'Before the meal." Dejection washed over the blocks; if it wouldn't have earned a beating I'm sure we would have groaned our displeasure. The counts took hours; meals were the bright spot at the end of the day. To make us wait after punishing work for the meager pittance they called food was just cruel. The ones barely holding on were going to succumb first and quickly.

Somehow I survived the morning count without falling out of line. My mind kept wandering, flashing to past events and lives other than my own. I kept thinking of Colonel Sheppard and his brief goodbye to me during the siege. And then flashing towards our time with Ford and his men, then on to thoughts of home. Times I spent with my family as a child, the good times and the ones I'd rather forget; the incredibly twisted relationship that being a McKay was. I was very glad when the counts were finished to the Comm's satisfaction.

"KV89603." My blood ran cold, spine fusing and eyes just about bulging out of my head. "KV89603, PX89561, BT89489." Oh god, what had I done? What had I done to be singled out by the Comm? Everything they 'asked' I did without comment – I learned from the first time. I was injured and slow but I worked until I could stand no more and begged for release to my barrack. My head was bent, looking at my feet and never at the Comm, my eyes did not rise above the round buttons on their chest.

"Yes Comm?" I said softly, stepping forward. The two others stood beside me, one woman barely twenty from the look of it and a man of perhaps sixty-seventy, frail and shaking.

"You have been selected for special purpose; there is no work in the field today. Follow me."

We were led out of the yard. I suppose I should be grateful not to be moving stones and building that damn wall. But we were led right past the meal servers; I wanted some of their food. Instead of turning left through the gate, we trudged past the building the Comms emerged from in the morning into the section beyond, pausing only at the next gate. This put us on a road, a real road paved and everything. On our bare feet it was most welcome from the dirt and stone strewn paths. Comm headed right on the road; there were no gates to go through. Fences paralleled the street about two meters back from the edge. More buildings, more barracks. Groups of Comms passed our little contingent laughing and chatting jovially in another language seemingly ignoring the place we were in. A flash of curls caught my eye. Copper and bright, they shone in the sun, bouncing in time with her step. In the midst of drab greys and clinging fetid browns it radiated colour and life. The shiny penny hued curls burned in my mind, I would recall them forever.

The further down the road we were taken the buildings became more grey, worn and weathered. Everything seemed sadder, gloomy, impressing heavily on us. Even the tree branches hung weighted with melancholy, almost sinister. We had to be in the oldest part of camp, the original camp itself. And it smelled. Putrid, heavy, cloying scents assaulted the nostrils. I could taste it on my tongue. As we passed a barrack and yard there were some sticks and rags stuck through the fence. Then, they moved, it was a person! The poor wretch, neither discernibly male nor female was naught but skin and bones. Only its arm and hand moved, the eyes were closed and sunken.

"Ignore it." The Comm said. "We do."

The rest of the journey passed in silence until we arrived at a large formerly white building. We were led inside, it was an infirmary. Fairly well fed prisoners staffed the building, stocking supplies, cleaning, acting as nurses.

"KahVey," Comm called out.

A little old man bustled out of a side room. "Ah Comm." He said warmly, in a high tinny voice. "You have things for me, yes?"

"These are the ones from the first block."

"Yes, yes. Will send them back when done." He ushered us further into the building as the Comm left. "I am KahVey, KahVey 52719. Call just KahVey. You here for medicine. Come, come." He directed us to separate curtained beds with instructions to wash and change into clean garments. The washing was the best thing I'd heard all year. A pitcher of fresh cool water and a bar of soap, that was heaven. I used the whole bar too, by the end the water was almost black but I felt human again.

"ID?" a gruff female voice asked. Its owner caught me off guard as I was dressing.

"KV89603." She was short, brawny, no nonsense looking woman, most certainly not a prisoner, obviously not a Comm but one of their people. I was looked over with deft efficiency: eyes, ears, throat, and heart. A nurse was called to remove my shirt, some of the flogging wounds had reopened during the bathing. Her fingers poked and prodded at them, randomly picking up gauze to wipe away some blood. I was forced to sit on the bed, pushed none too subtly by the nurse. My feet, in their newly washed glory, were picked over, each cut examined with precision. Not a word was said or look of concern graced her features through all this. When she was done there she moved on to my hand. My angry black and purple, swollen, and bent hand. I nearly bit through my lip as she manipulated it slightly. I tried jerking it back to the protective cradle against my chest, but she only held on tighter.

"He's suitable." She addressed the nurse. "Tell KahVey to add his ID to the list. And bring back bandages, and a box. I'll call for a tray once he's fixed up. The other man is worthless to me, have KahVey take him to the _Baerstedt_. As for the girl, add her to the list too."

I could only hope being on the list meant good things. Oscar Schindler had a list, it meant a better life for the Jews of Germany. I truly prayed that this one was similar. As voodoo practitioners go, I'd much prefer Carson. He would at least tell me what was going on, this women acted like I was nothing more than specimen to be observed than a person. The other prisoners working here got better reception than I did. Besides if Carson were here I would be home in Atlantis. Sheppard would be making comments and chatting over Carson while Elizabeth hovered in the background in the whole concerned mother type way. Of course, I would be: completely degrading his heritage (Beckett), mocking his hair (Sheppard), snarking on the Kirk thing (Sheppard again), acknowledging how close to death these injuries brought me. Business as usual really. I couldn't (wouldn't) admit it, but I kind of missed the sheep loving Scot. I missed them all. At least if they were here I wouldn't be so alone. I missed the needle prick in my musings, but not the infirmary swimming before unconsciousness swallowed me.

My hand had been fixed and wrapped; I noticed it first once the world stopped spinning. The splints on the fingers were rough, rudimentary but they were wrapped and protected. However, the slight angle both hand and fingers had told me that they would never be straight again. Maybe Carson could do something about that, maybe he had a device squirreled away in the infirmary that could restore my hand back to normal, maybe – may be I had to get out of here first, only then could Carson do anything for me. The injuries from being flogged also had been dressed, covered with thick coarse gauze.

"You awake. Good, good." KahVey bustled in. "Come."

They strapped me down: arms and legs to the bed in tough leather restraints. An IV was slid into the veins of my neck and secured. I could feel my stomach roiling; the excess saliva precipitating vomiting filled my mouth. I closed my eyes fighting to calm myself and dear god, not to throw up. Someone took my pulse; it was racing. A comment was made to the doctor, she said it was fine, excess medication would ruin the trial and waiting to calm would delay it further. Forcedly, I opened my eyes rather to see what was coming than face it blindly. Picking a syringe off the tray the doctor approached and slid the needle into the IV. It burned. I screamed.

Veins on fire. Back arched, straining, pulling against restraints. Heart beating, pounding through ribs. What did they do to me? Hurts to breathe. What they do? Scream till can't anymore.

"What are you called?"

So hard to open eyes, light hurts and they're so heavy. Everything feels heavy, weighted. Can't focus thoughts or sight; sound feels disjointed. There is talking again, a question. Have to answer, but mouth is like stuffed with cotton. There are two answers, don't know which to say. "Ro'ney M'Kay." finally slur out.

"No, what are you called? What is your ID?"

Wrong answer. "KV89603." I hear other voices in the background, sounds muddled but familiar. They jumble and tumble together all the same. "Carson? Sheppard?" I can't see, everything is fuzzy with only shapes and light discernable. Raising my head sends sharp stabs throughout, let it fall back instead. Good thing to be lying down.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Carson? Th'is the infirmary you twit." Feel like I've licked a desert. "Water?" The voices bumble and twist, they're sharing something. A cup presses to lips and cool water slides across my tongue. Only a few sips but the desert licking feeling is gone.

"Do you know where you are?"

"The infirmary Carson, you haggis muncher." Voodoo has finally fucked up his brain, his hair addled the last coherent cells left – no wait, that's Sheppard. Wait, where's Sheppard and why's he here? Oh. He must be hurt too, but how 'cause us two injured no one pilots the ship. Maybe we're rescued. That's right, must have been rescued. It's Sheppard's fault.

"Do you know where the infirmary is?"

Carson's total idiot today, not enough sleep maybe or too much of that swill what's-his-face makes. It's a big floating city, how can you not remember? "'lantis. You're an idiot Carson." Must be stupid in the coffee this morning, good thing I didn't – "Why's there no coffee?"

"You are not in 'Lantis. You are a prisoner."

"So full of shit." God I'm so tired. I feel like my blood's been replaced with lead. There's a throbbing pain behind my eyes.

"You are a prisoner, a slave. Your Carson sold you to us."

Huh. That's such crap. He may stick me with the largest needles on occasion but he would never sell me out. The sheep lover couldn't cause anyone harm, the hippopotamus oath wouldn't let him. Sheppard, he – not him either unless a glowy lady… I forced my eyes open just a slit, no glowy ladies just dark blobs hovering in brightness.

"It's true. You were sold as a slave. It was your Carson that did it. He signed the papers, I can show you."

"No." It wasn't a refusal, a cry of disbelief. It couldn't be true. For what? Thirty pieces of silver? A paper was shoved into my face, I couldn't make out the lines but there were two signatures at the bottom. "No…"

"It's true."

My stomach rolled, tossing violently. Acid burned on its way up my esophagus. I heaved, expelling the meager contents down my chin and chest. Tremours began to wrack every limb. They grew worse and my vision faded as my eyes rolled back in my head.

"Administer the serum. Transfer him back to the ward. When he wakes give him some broth and send him back to the block."

"He believed at the end. The narcotic works."

"It took too long to fully absorb."

"Well, yes. But it does work."

"I want the ten per cent variant. We'll administer it next time. If it works properly in trial then we can synthesize it for deployment. Comm Ragan will be pleased. Write up the notes, I want to look them over before the test tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Saturated Darkness

"Bankha, what's this camp about? You have to tell me what's going on." I cried, struggling against restraints. "I have to know why I'm here."

"You were sold to work, to be a slave. This is a work camp, nothing more."

"But why would he sell me? What did I do to earn this fate?"

"I don't know what you did, but sometimes the money is reason enough. Maybe he needed the coins for something. Regardless you are here. You must accept this KV89603."

"I know." I whispered dejectedly.

"He fully accepts." Whispers.

More whispers. "Yes, the others have been consistent in this trial as well."

"Should we continue or release him? We already know it works, do we need to carry it further Hæler?"

"Ragan will be pleased no doubt. Have there been adverse effects with this one? Does he remember afterwards?"

"No to both. The reports have written exactly the results of the serum. Only one did not take and died Hæler, you have it in writing in your hand. We could keep on but we know it works and consistently too. I don't see a point in going further, but then I am not the Hæler."

"You're right, you aren't the Hæler. However, I can't but not agree. The trials have been carried out according to orders, we have done everything as asked. Officially, we can do no more. However, this one interests me. He succumbed to the effects of the drug eventually, but it took longer. It was as if his mind fought the serum, and it did not accept the offered story as readily as the others. This intrigues me; it tells me there is something unique about him. I want to know more, to study it fully. When you write up the reports from this round I want you to create a separate file on KV89603. His mind I want to look in to, to study. Mark it with KahVey as well."

"Of course Hæler. Will he be returned tomorrow? I must know what tests to prepare."

Pause. "No. I have to reflect on the reports for a while. This is an unusual subject. He will be called for when I'm ready, send him back to the fields or where ever they work him."

"Hold still." A needle slides into the IV and within minutes my head feels clearer, less fogged. It still pounds like a drunken construction crew is rattling about inside. One wrist is freed and I'm given a cup of water to sip. My mouth is dry like I've talked for days, but I don't know why. There are snips of images, voices I can't understand. Nothing I can recognize or remember. These infirmary visits bring gaps, holes in my memory that are lost. And I feel like I'm losing something every time, not just the space between entrance and exit but things I should know. I can't explain it, it's just a feeling I have.

The one good thing about the infirmary is the food, the soup is more like soup here. It's thicker with actual vegetables and something that resembles meat. Because of traveling to the infirmary I only get the one meal a day but its better than a week's worth of the hot flavoured water the others are given. The trade off is no bread though, I can't stash anything away for later and I refuse to take any of Bankha's bread. He needs it more than I, and Gusweb should get a share before me. The diet has been good though, Carson would approve of its results. I've lost a few pounds, several I had to spare. It was enough to need a rope belt, well until the Comm brought new pants (on orders of KahVey or so he claims).

"KV89603, you finished with broth. It time to go." KahVey said while plucking the bowl from my hands. He pushed me from the bed. "Go now."

I wanted to ask if I was coming back but couldn't force myself to speak in front of the Comm. Unceremoniously, I was pushed out of the infirmary, a club pressing hard into my spine. Being dark, I stumbled as my feet gained the road. The Comm had not brought a lantern to light the way and there was no moon either. Silence was all around, eerie and heavy. The scent of burning flesh hung in the air sticking to everything. The stench was heavier than it had been my first night, it clogged the nostrils and coated the tongue, completely unavoidable. Gagging, I tried to keep my stomach from launching violently out my throat. I had to be near the crematorium. Alternately, the reeking cloy of burned human hair fluttered through my nose, it was like smelling burning silk. I coughed, acid scorching the back of my throat.

Suddenly, I was shoved. Forced against the wire fence, the entire weight of the Comm's body pushing against me painfully into the taut wires. The cloth of the hood brushed against my ear, I could feel the exhalations through the weave. I tensed, I knew what was coming. I waited for the hands to creep beneath my pants and drag them down.

"What's the matter?" Comm hissed, low and full of vitriol. "Can't stand the stench?" Apparently, I was wrong. "It's you that's burning. Your pathetic blotches of existence. It's the smell of death." My short hair was yanked pulling my head back. "Don't worry, that will be you one day." Comm smacked across the back of my head with the club, sending my face into the wire. "I promise."

It was with a bit of pain Comm pulled me off the fence. I didn't need moonlight to tell me the sharp sting on my cheek was where the wire pulled out of my flesh. Slowly, with tentative steps I continued down the road, Comm hitting me at random whenever the need come over. I was kind of grateful for the overwhelming darkness; it hid the clouds of smoke that drifted from the other side of camp. It also shrouded the dead body that was once a person stuck in the fence.

I stumbled and fell as Comm 'escorted' me into my barrack with a loud crack across the shoulders from his club. The barrack was silent, but the moment the door closed soft sounds began to creep back. There were whispers between bunks, shifting bodies as some of my block mates rolled over and tried to arrange themselves comfortably enough to try to get some sleep.

"Rodney?" Bankha loudly whispered. "Climb on up." He had moved up in the world, we both had. He now had the top bunk, mine was just below his. We had found it was better to be higher, with no bathroom there wasn't any place to relieve oneself so many remained in their bunks. A few were ill and couldn't control themselves. Slats and cracks meant the people below got to share in the experience. The two people who had been above us, one died in the first few days (she was shot by the head Comm) and the other moved to another bunk further down the line (he was sick and forced away from the rest of us). So we literally moved up in the world.

"How long this time?" I asked sliding in next to him.

"Long after dark. Someone from two barracks over and one street up tried to run away today. He attacked a Comm out in the field and tried to run across the open land. They caught him and dragged him away. In punishment we all had to stand in the blocks while the Comms sat and watched. I don't know what happened to him, but I don't think standing in the block is the only punishment we're going to receive."

I shuddered, who knew what the Comms would do to teach us a lesson. "Hey Bankha?" We huddled a little closer, the barrack had grown chilly and we were without blankets. "How long do you figure we've been here?"

"Eleven, twelve sun cycles perhaps?"

Eleven or twelve plus the ten it took to get here, three weeks then total. Twenty-one days gone. It's almost a new month, wait, the new beginning had past and was several days in. That made it June, at least on Earth.

"Rodney, are you sleeping?" Bankha whispered.

"Sorry, no. I was just thinking about things."

"Sorry to disturb you then."

"It's okay, it wasn't really important." I sighed. "Have you learned anything more about the camp?"

"Yes. The prisoners are very curious. Jaru from third block, first street told me the other prisoners, the older ones are real prisoners sent in punishment of crime. But not all of them, and it can't be for certain as only two were recognized as prisoners bearing the mark of crime. Another counts several of her countrymen in her block and a few in the other blocks she's seen."

"We all recognize someone of our own race Bankha."

"True, however it is one third of her clan. That's the interesting part. One third of a clan of a tribe is much of coincidence. I've noticed others that could be of the same peoples as well."

"It is true," a voice piped up in the darkness. "I'm sorry to interrupt but tit is true. My family was all taken, my wife, children, sister, father all together. We do not share a dwelling but reside in the same town. To take a whole family is planned." He cried out. "They are all gone! I am only one sent to the right."

I shuddered, perhaps it was good to have been taken alone. I could have been sent to the left and the others right or vice versa and then where would I be?

"I know another was a spy. The man who died in the trench? Rumours circulate that he was an assassin for political operatives. I don't know if this is true but that's what the whispers say. Rodney,"

"Hmm?"

"There is something very foul about this place. You must be on your guard, I fear whatever lies in store for us."

I couldn't blame him for his fear, I held the same terrors that lurked in the darkened corners of my mind and sprang forth when my guard relaxed. Hitler's Germany had packed whole ethnicities off to camps; however they recognized their fellow people. Here it seemed different like only portions of peoples were brought and then divided up. In some ways it seemed like one could be the only of their kind. But the words of the Comm still echoed in the caverns of my mind, there were some social exterminations of various groups.

"We might get new jobs tomorrow, well not you perhaps with your special position in the infirmary." I had told him I worked there rather than the truth. How could I tell him the truth when I didn't know what it was myself. Besides there was already so much to fear: the Comms, meager food, death, punishment; why give something else to fear. "A new group arrived today, at least five blocks that I saw being led to barracks in the next street. I'm so tired of moving those stones, I'd rather drop one on my foot and get a job with you."

No, he wouldn't want a 'job' with us. The guarantee of 'position' didn't exist, then again neither did the job. "Hey Bankha?" I whispered sliding over to the edge of the bunk.

"Yes?"

Carefully, I climbed down into my bunk. "How's Enzic today?"

"Rodney, she died two days ago. Don't you remember?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 Breathe Me

"Ahh!" Sheppard shouted, pounding his fist against the wall. "This is ridiculous!"

"I understand John that this is frustrating for you but please calm down." Ronon snorted at Weir's comment. She looked just as worn and tired as the rest of them, perhaps more. Another meeting without a change or sign. Three teams, doubled in size for the search scoured the planet in five day shifts along with a battalion of the Xetian army. They had covered the main continent and the capital city in the first week. The second and third weeks' search expanded to the other continents of which there were thirteen. Each land mass wasn't very large but they were certainly large enough. Lorne and his team were currently off world in rotation tramping through a rainforest.

"How does one scientist go missing and no one sees a thing?" Sheppard flopped back into his chair dejected. McKay's disappearance was felt by the whole expedition in every corner of the city. Sheppard was taking it the hardest. The weight of responsibility and burden of protection rested squarely on his shoulders, his guilt latched on to the heaviness and tugged. It was slowly crushing him. Four weeks were coming to a close with no sign or clue so far, faith was beginning to waver.

The original mission was rather simple: reconnoiter the planet as Teyla's intel was limited, meet the natives, arrange for trade/alliance/sharing, then call for negotiating teams and/or Weir, and then go back home. They had met the natives, the Xetian and were welcomed with open arms. Minister Arvid, the equivalent of prime minister was more than happy to enter into trade agreement and mutual benefice alliance. Rodney had been suspicious as he pointed out, "When had anything ever been that easy?" Minister Arvid took a moment to explain that many generations ago they had been a closed people not in agreements with anyone. Their world had flooded and the Wraith were culling the clusters of villages easily. In need, they tried a mass exodus to other worlds but had been turned away, a result of the isolationism. No world wanted to help those who did nothing for them in their quest for assistance and alliance. The Xetian began to dial randomly, hoping to save some of their people as the situation worsened progressively. Many planets were inhospitable for life or worse, facing cullings themselves. Finally, they dialed into a planet whose king welcomed them with open arms. The Riya also suffered regular cullings but they were evacuating into caves beneath the mountains. Even though space and food were at a premium the Xetian were taken in like family. In the end both peoples had nothing left once the Wraith disappeared but the Riya were more than willing to assist in the rebuilding of both planets. In payment, the Xetian could offer nothing except a vow that they would offer assistance and alliance to any who requested it.

Weir had been ecstatic when Sheppard relayed the information to her. She even decided to head up the negotiation team herself which pleased Minister Arvid. He requested her to join them in celebration that night.

"Dr. McKay," he had said while motioning another man forward. "As a man of science the negotiations may bore you. I'm sure our scientists would love to speak with you; there are many things they would like to ask and vice versa I assume. This is Caliph Olim, the head scientist." Caliph Olim gestured for Rodney to turn and led him down the hall while prattling away almost giddily.

After the feast which had carried on late into the night they had all gone to bed. Elizabeth was escorted back to the gate declining to stay the night as the Daedalus was due to depart early in the morning before SGA 1 was due home. Everyone went to their chambers gleefully provided by their hosts with full bellies and the warm feeling only alcohol can provide. Rodney had laughed, murmuring "Kirk," as John was personally escorted by the Mistress of Council. That was the last time McKay had been seen by anyone.

Ronon had been sent to collect McKay when he didn't show to breakfast; the theory being that Ronon couldn't be hurt when McKay began the fight known as the 'War of Waking Rodney'. And he, Ronon, wouldn't hesitate to use whatever means necessary to get the scientist up and present. So far the war's tally was Rodney 9, Others 4; but the loyal opposition was slowly gaining points. It was interesting, Rodney usually slept five hours or less and could/would wake at the drop of an Ancient device. Give him eight hours however and he slept like the dead – silent and unmoving. It could only be figured that the sleep of the dead happened because Rodney had relaxed enough and wasn't his manic, stressed out self. Sheppard wished he could give Rodney more eight hour nights, once they found him John would personally give and ensure he received at least seven eight hour nights.

Minister Arvid had paled considerably when he found out about McKay's disappearance. He feared retaliation by the Atlanteans and loss of alliance. When it was revealed that only McKay's gear had been located, the poor man looked like he was going to have a heart attack. Immediately, Weir was notified and SGA 1 spread out to search the building and surrounding areas with assistance of a guard troop.

When the search turned up nothing, Sheppard called for backup to assist with expansion of the search area. Caldwell had offered to delay leaving but Weir sent him on as supplies and equipment were needed. Atlantis didn't go on alert however, as McKay's GDO was among his things. That also made it more imperative that he be found for on his own he couldn't get back. The Minister, meanwhile, had called in a platoon to serve as guides and augment the searchers.

That was four weeks ago and still no sign of Rodney or even who might have taken him. Radek had been dropped into the Chief Science Officer role – he had accepted but made it known to Sheppard and Weir that he considered the move temporary regardless of the outcome. Personally, it was more likely that not calling it a temporary change acknowledged that increasingly looming possibility that McKay might not return. It only added to the tension that was steadily building throughout the city.

"Carson, give me an update as to what his condition might be," Sheppard asked, voice tight and strained.

"Well, assuming that conditions have been remotely ideal he's going to be slightly hypoglycemic, perhaps with a touch of hypothermia. Injuries are possible and would definitely need treatment. This is of course, provided he has food and water. If he doesn't, things are very grim." He looked at Weir, "If he hasn't had food then desperation would motivate him to eat anything edible near him. Without water things are bleaker. Reality is we could be performing a search and recovery mission. But, for the moment, we must assume that Rodney is alive and in need of medical attention. That's the best that I can give you Colonel, Dr. Weir. I wish I had something better to offer," he sighed.

"Thank you Carson," Weir smiled wanly. "We need to discuss an expansion of our search. I realize we still have places to look on the planet but we need to consider scouting off world. It wouldn't be the first time a team has been taken for various purposes. We've put our trading partners on alert but there are still many worlds left and we don't seem to make friends easily. If you've got ideas people, I'd like to hear them."

Teyla spoke up, "Perhaps Ronon and I could go beyond our friends' lands and see if Dr. McKay has been heard of or his disappearance. It would not be too difficult to know if he had been through those lands, he is, shall we say unforgettable."

"Excellent idea. I'd like you to head out tomorrow morning at 08:30."

"Thank you, Dr. Weir."

"Dr. Weir," a voice interrupted on the radio. "Unscheduled off world activation."

It would be wrong to say that the first thought in everyone's mind wasn't related to Rodney McKay. Few didn't hope it was the acerbic doctor. "Incoming IDC, it's Lt. Cadman ma'am."

"Thank you Chuck, I'll be right there." She looked a little crestfallen as she dismissed the meeting. "Rodney, where are you?" she whispered.

I was in hell, I was freezing but in hell. This planet had to be going through a spring cycle as the days were warm almost hot while the nights dropped into chilly temperatures. My feet hurt, every step felt like hundreds of needles were jabbed into my flesh. We still had to clean the transports though, the Comms didn't care. They had nice uniforms while we shivered in cotton rags that masqueraded as clothes. The Comms had dragged dozens of us from our beds; we were needed to clean the transports. For some reason the trams had to be scrubbed before dawn, no one knew the exact reason as they, the Comms, spoke to one another in what I assume was their native tongue. Once we got to one of the transports its reason for being cleansed was apparent. The inside of each was covered in blood, some fresh and bright while other parts had already congealed and begun to dry. Acid burned the back of my throat; I struggled not to be sick. The Comms cracked their whips across our backs, forcing us inside.

The people had to have been packed inside; there was too much blood for anyone to have escaped. A few bullet holes pierced the walls. Once shot, there wouldn't have been any room to fall. What prompted the massacre? There could easily be several hundred per car who were killed.

"You," a gravelly voiced Comm called. "Get to work." He threw a bucket full of soapy water at my face.

Wiping the soapy water from my eyes I shivered, the water was cold and now I was much colder too. There were pieces of human mixed in the blood I noticed as I scrubbed the floor. None of the debris was identifiable as to what it had been, but I knew I was crawling in bits of brains, faces, internal organs and muscles. A part of me felt saddened that they had been massacred without cause; the other part of me was envious for they had escaped. Sure, there would be no record of their life and passing, but they did not suffer the slow dehumanization of the camps. Sighing, I scrubbed a little harder.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Breathe Fast

Tension and change hung in the air, they shrouded everything. It had been building for a while. As we stood in the blocks for the morning count we could only wait for things to peak. We didn't have to wait long. "You no longer will work in the fields."

Our numbers had dwindled not just in my block but in the others as well. There was loss from disease, accidents, victims of the Comms, and more than a few suicides. We also starved. Our food had been taken from us, the soup and bread replaced with only bread. It was hard and moldy; we scraped the mold off. There was no way to save any of it either for the Comms thoroughly searched everyone, the result of a prisoner concealing a broken saw blade and committing suicide. The only thing that saved me were the trips to the infirmary, the food hadn't decreased there… yet. "The food you are fed will be dependent on your work."

What? "No!" someone cried.

"There is no choice in the matter," the Comm replied harshly.

A cry went up, men and women started screaming. Some yelled in their native tongue, others only shouted angered sounds but the resonance was deafening. People broke away from their blocks, walking purposefully and then running towards the Comms. They ran straight into them, running over more than a few as they raced for the Head Comm. Pandemonium shattered the pall of the rest of us. I'm not really a fighter but I didn't care as I ran to join the melee. Hitting and shoving, we took down the head Comm of our block. I pulled his hood off – he was the one who had broken my fingers! With all my might I kicked him in the ribs, stomach, legs, any place I could. Even when he curled into a ball I still kicked him. My toes were broken but he was bleeding so it didn't matter.

Flashes of light exploded across my vision, turning, I caught a club across the face. I was clubbed again, on my face, back. One grabbed my hand, wrapping a fist around it and squeezing. A scream roared out of me.

"Rodney!" Bankha shouted as he struggled towards me. He jumped on one of my attackers, throwing him to the ground. The other he grabbed by the throat; he held him until the Comm went limp. Bankha crouched next to me, "Get to the barracks!" Everywhere I could see groups of prisoners and Comms fighting, some of both groups lay on the ground. I could see the faces of other prisoners pressed against the fences, watching the revolt with trepidation and admiration. "Get to the barracks Rodney! Hide wi-" I felt my face spattered by something. Carefully, I touched with trembling fingers my cheek; it came away dotted with blood. I looked up, as Bankha fell I saw the Comm behind him, a gun clutched tightly in his hand. Part of Bankha's face was gone, the dirt beneath us soaked up the rest of the blood that seeped from his wound. I never heard the shot. Comm motioned me to move: I stood on shaky legs. Bankha's unseeing eyes stared back at me. I was directed to the barracks, forced to my knees and sat forehead to the outer wall. Others were there and more joined us steadily. No one uttered a sound; we all trembled. The sounds of fighting continued all around us, screaming, fists striking flesh, the sound of bodies falling.

Slowly, the din diminished and the dirt settled but we did not turn our heads to look. The entire camp fell silent, not even the leaves rustled. "Form blocks!" a shudder coursed down my spine, I didn't want to see the results. I didn't want to know how many more lay unmoving and unseeing. "Form blocks now!" Everyone moved, scrambling to their blocks. We stepped around the fallen but tried to assist those capable of standing. "Leave them!" I let go of the young men trying to rise on a broken leg. Silently, I trudged to my spot and tried to ignore the spaces between where block mates used to stand. Surreptitiously I looked about, everyone was injured and bleeding. No one escaped. "Eyes forward."

The Comms ringed the perimeter of the yard, each wielding a weapon, some carried two. Faces peered from the spaces between them, the other prisoners watched to see our fate. Perverse curiosity kept their eyes upon us, fear for their fellow sufferers and relief that it wasn't them. "Rebellion will NOT be tolerated!" I began to shake, fighting the urge to run. The leaders of the fight – those still alive were brought forcibly before us. "Put them against the wall," he stared us down, his hood had purposely been removed. That scarred, harsh face with unforgiving angles none of us would forget. In a way, he reminded me of someone from a lifetime ago, Kolya. Our comrades stood backs to the wall, some triumphant and others so frightened they wet themselves. "Kill them." One by one they fell, blood spattered across the barrack wall from a bullet to the head. The wood looked like it was painted red.

"Pick up the bodies," the Head Comm ordered. No one moved; many looked to their feet. "Did you think I meant the Comms?" he snarled. "Let them sully their hands as little as possible. Pick them up." We scrambled for the bodies, each grabbing an arm, leg and carrying them into the center of the yard. "Put them in a pile," Comm ordered. "Someone fetch a torch." A Comm slipped away to do his bidding.

"Step forward and form blocks." The Comm returned with a torch and bottle, presumably full of fuel. The pile was doused and the torch flung on. Within seconds they caught fire, the clothes and hair first. The smoke drifted over us, burning our eyes and stinging our nostrils. As the flames licked at their flesh I tried to look away.

"No," a Comm growled, grabbing my chin. My head was forced up, "Don't you dare close your eyes." I watched, we all watched as the skin grew red and bubbled before turning black. It seemed like their fingers moved, curling up and beckoning us, but it was just the flesh becoming dehydrated as the fire fed greedily. My stomach jumped into my throat; I tore away from the Comm's grasp and retched. "Disgusting," Comm snarled, shoving me away. I fell to my knees, bringing up what meager contents my belly contained. Not that there was much, after a couple of times only acid came up, burning my throat. I wanted to stay on the ground and rest but feared the punishment if I remained.

I watched as they tossed Bankha on the fire. I kept seeing his slightly surprised expression as he died trying to save me. He was my closest friend, in a place where kindness was more rare than food it meant so much. And in my life where it was difficult to make and keep relationships, friendship was worth so much more. Like those who passed before him, his life was stolen by this cruel place. Enzic, Gusweb, countless others whom I only knew as a number, and now Bankha. Silently, I began to cry. My fingers rubbed over the numbers tattooed into my skin. I couldn't detect any difference between marked and unmarked, but I knew they were there. I was only a number, not Rodney McKay, just a number and nothing more. No one would mourn me, no one would care. The loss of me would only mean more work for someone else, that's the only emotion anyone would feel for me. In this place we were not men or women, not even human merely chattel – worth little more than the labour produced. We were as ghosts, mere shells – husks of a body that was systematically abused and starting to decay. What do you call a man without a soul? You call him prisoner, slave, rubbish, chattel, and dead. You call him worker and test subject. You call him a number not a name. You call him KV89603.

"You!" I was struck across the face. "Pay attention."

"Yes, Comm," I replied.

Head Comm was addressing us again. "From which block did the leaders come?" They had come from two blocks: fourth block, second street; third block, first street. But no one said a word. Who knew what would be done to those blocks. Everyone stared at the ground as smoke billowed around us, the smell didn't bother me anymore. "Which block?" he screamed. We stood silent. "Bring him here," he pointed. "That one."

A hand clamped on the back of my neck, gripping it tightly. I was guided before Head Comm and thrown to my knees. "One stroke for every moment of silence until he's dead or someone answers," he unclipped the whip from his side letting the leather slide through his fingers. "If he dies before I have an answer I will choose another to replace him. It will continue until we are done." Two Comms took my arms and held me down. "No one wants to come forward? We shall begin," he raised his arm and brought the leather down across my back. One. Two. No one spoke, better one suffer than all. Fear was a powerful motivator. Three. Four. Five. I felt like my back was burning, my ripped shirt not providing any advantage. But I would not scream, though, I wanted to badly. My mouth was full blood from biting my tongue. Yet, I refused to scream, if they would not speak than neither would I. Six. Seven…

One hundred s- Barely could I keep conscious, teetering among overwhelming darkness. I lay on the blood soaked ground. One hundred s- "Wait!" The whip still came crashing down. "Comm wait!"

"You have something to say?" he hissed.

"Yes, Comm. I know what blocks they came from," the voice replied meekly.

"I didn't hear that," Comm retorted, raising the whip.

"I know what blocks they came from! Third barrack, first street, and fourth barrack, second street; that's where the leaders were from."

"You are certain?"

"Yes, Comm."

"Why speak up now?" He snarled; the whip rested on the ground.

"I don't want to be next Comm."

"It all comes down to us in the end doesn't it? What is best for us." Comm coiled his whip, reattaching it to his belt, a few drops of blood dripped to the ground. "Those blocks stay, everyone else back to the barracks."

My arms were released but only for a moment as the Comms turned me over and lifted my body off the ground. They carried me, head occasionally scraping in the dirt, towards the barracks. However, they did not take me into mine, just left me lying in the dirt. No one stopped in their hurry to get to 'safety'; I was forced to crawl on my belly. The sounds of the Comms and remaining blocks faded away as I struggled to move inches let alone feet. Pull with the 'good' hand, push carefully with damaged feet and try not to move the back too much even though sweat mingled in the mangled mess of my back and stung.

By the time I reached the door screaming had started, but I would not look back. They screamed and shouted in terror, the kind of sound that pierces and grips your heart. Yet, I didn't care, it wasn't me out there. The door was swiftly closed behind me, they cared enough not to invite more terror but not to help me. Some part of me couldn't blame them for we were only trying to protect ourselves – hard to do in this world, this place. Something slammed into the door hard, but no one would dare find out what. The door was splattered by something as I lay my cheek on the cool floor and slipped away.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Don't Breathe

"ID?"

"KV89603."

"Half. Next prisoner."

The gate clanked closed behind me as the Comm shoved me into the yard. Head hung low, I trudged to my block and stood waiting. I stepped around the bodies. The fetid corpses lay all across the yard drawing flies and disgusting creatures and decaying. We were all accustomed to the smell; we just tried not to step in them. The Comms forbade us from moving or burying them – a reminder they called it. No one would forget, ever. They reinforced the reminder and our obedience with trips to the boxes. Little metallic plated boxes barely one meter cubed that we were put in a day or two at the time. The boxes were located on top of buildings around the camp; I had wondered what their purpose was. I found out personally. There was no room to really move once you were locked in. Sure you could shift an inch or two but whatever position you were in to begin was how you remained. The box heated up during the day to the point that any skin touching the top or sides was burned. Blisters marked box residents. They weren't given food either for no work meant no food.

We received new jobs too, watched over by twice the amount of Comms as in the fields. There were two job groups: work brigade or death brigade. I was on the death brigade. With a partner I carried bodies from a cart to a ditch we dug ourselves and laid them in. We laid them in two rows of ten, sprinkled them with an orange liquid, and stacked the next layer. On a good day I could bury one hundred; those days were rare. I shook too much and lost concentration too often to have any good days lately. My body was starving and slowly shutting down. Half a bread ration was all I got – I even ate the mold. I was thin, this I knew for I had stolen smaller clothes off a dead man. We had been reduced to stealing from the dead. One woman went crazy and tried to eat the decaying flesh. I held her hand as two others asphyxiated her. It was a mercy.

The infirmary didn't feed us anymore either unless we served a purpose or remained the whole day. Hæler made me work for any food but refused to treat my wounds – punishment she said for the rebellion. Somehow, I don't think she would ever treat me if it wasn't required. I scrubbed floors and laundered linens while she asked me questions. Most of the queries concerned intellectual problems or were philosophical in nature. If she knew what Mensa was I'd share that with her but as an alien it was moot. Sometimes I was given puzzles, simple ones to solve in a limited time. Times had gotten slower; it was getting harder and harder to think clearly. She got angry, often throwing me out. It was my frustration too not being able to solve a simplified alien Rubik's cube. Rin-Rea- What's-his-name would laugh at my stupidity. Not that I would leave this place, I knew that. No one else would either, we accepted it; it was our fate. We could only try to suffer just a little less.

"Line up!" Slowly we shuffled into a single file line for the daily meal. Today was dark bread with green mold; it was hard and tasteless. It didn't matter for I ate it quickly regardless and stood at the barrack door waiting to be searched. The Comm patted me down thoroughly and let me pass. I sighed with relief as I trudged into my bunk, sometimes they forced us to strip and searched everywhere, _every_where. Never fun as many times you were injured and had to suffer for bleeding on or dirtying the Comm. When it happened you could only close your eyes and let them work, it was easier that way. Stiffly, I climbed up into my bunk – hard to do with an injured hand and feet. My shirt stuck to my back, I had to rip it off and tried not to look at the stains. Using the fabric as a pillow, I lay on my stomach and fell asleep.

"Get up!" A Comm shouted, throwing open the door. They were starting us working earlier and earlier. I think they felt if they worked us harder then we would be more tired and never have the energy to rebel ever again. I couldn't see anyone trying that again, not after witnessing the treatment of the leaders and their blocks. Everyone was sick as well, many from their injuries, others from our conditions or diseases the decaying bodies invited. The morning count took less time now, but we were forced to wait while the Comms abused us regardless.

No one spoke during work, we dared not. The cart was piled higher I noted as I dug their grave; they would have to be buried before we left for the evening. The Comms would not allow the corpses to remain out where they could see them and there were animals and insects that liked to eat things – particularly dead things. In some way I had to envy these people, they bore no worse than some bruises and died apparently without pain judging by their faces. Most importantly they died well fed; none of them were starving or skeletal. The divide between them and us was expansive and yet negligible. We would both be dead at the hands of the Comms anyways.

Lift the body, carry it to the grave, and place it in. It was a cadence this pattern. Simple and yet hard to do with an injured hand, but I couldn't carry the corpses with one hand alone. After a while everything hurt; the arms hurt from lifting the bodies, legs from climbing in and out of the graves, back from digging and carrying. Everything was carried out under the harsh sun; this planet apparently didn't believe in rain. All the sun turned us varying shades of brown and pink. It was easy to tell who the new arrivals were. Sure, they still had determination and spirit in their eyes but they were pale. It didn't matter what colour they were for in comparison to us they were light.

"You two! Toss them in and cover them up! Quickly!" A Comm shouted as he ran by heading towards the other Comms. While they spoke all became more agitated and frantic. Something was wrong. We tossed the bodies in, not caring where they fell or how they lay. The tension permeated the work space among the prisoners and the Comms. We ran between the cart and grave dumping our cargo in an unrelenting pace.

"Just dump the cart over," Comm yelled, rushing towards us. With the Comm's help we pushed it on its side, letting the bodies spill out. Grabbing our shovels, we tossed the dirt on until the corpses were mostly covered. "That's good. Back to your barracks, now!" Comm shouted, pushing the both of us.

We ran; we had no energy but we ran anyway. All the gates towards the barracks were open with Comms ushering people through. In the background a soft rumble echoed around us. "Too late!" Someone shouted.

"Get them inside!" another cried as the gates slammed closed.

A Comm grabbed my shirt, yanking me in their panicked wake. I was pulled to the nearest building, so was my partner followed by several Comms. The rumbling increased steadily. Comm shoved me to the floor, "Keep quiet." I pulled my knees to me while the others drew heavy curtains over the windows. No one spoke or moved as the rumbling grew until it seemed like it was right overhead. It held for several heart pounding moments before slowly moving away.

Only when it was completely gone did anyone move. "Why didn't we know? We should have -"

"Up. Back to the barracks with you," Comm said gruffly. Dutifully, we rose and trod after him. Other Comms were emerging from various buildings murmuring animatedly, yet no prisoner came out either. For the first time the camp was completely silent, not ever a bird song could be heard. I could only perceive the creaking of the trees as they swayed in the breeze. I suppose that if I couldn't see or hadn't been here that long I might be able to pretend I was just alone in the woods.

The Comm did not say a word as the door to the barrack was opened. My barrack mates spoke neither, there were only downcast faces and closed eyes. I climbed up into my bunk intent on taking advantage of the time given to us. However, I could only lay there staring up at the ceiling counting the boards. Resignedly I sighed and looked around at my mates. Several faces were not recognized as part of our block; the rush to hide must have forced them inside with us. A few of them were speaking softly together. The few words I picked up sounded familiar to the language of the Comms.

"Hey," I said, turning on my side. "Do you know what the Comms said before?"

"Yes," one replied. "We're of the same race." What? I motioned her to continue. "They were talking about the overview – that sound you heard? Overview." Others were looking at her now with interest. "It's a part of life. Every ten lunae cycles or so there is an overview of land and people."

"But why force us to hide?" I asked.

"Strangers, I know you're not from our lands but surely you can see it is wiser to hide the camp than explain its presence," she stared at us imperiously. "Every ten cycles or so the Harkairn conduct an overview us of. It's the agreement we've had for the last two hundred years. Usually there is some warning though, not officially of course."

"So we're in the Harkairn territory? And no offense, but, why are you here and not on the other side of fence?"

"No stranger," another of her group piped up. "This is Medha. We're here for various reasons. My father is unfortunately outspoken against the provisional government. She's of an inferior clan – mixed blood. There are political prisoners, prisoners, state detainees and many more."

"They're creating a socially engineered race," both a question and a statement.

"I don't know what you mean by social engineering stranger. If your meaning is making the Medhan people better by eliminating the weak segments than you are correct."

"Wait, wait, wait," I replied as I climbed down to the floor. "You've just told me that your race is modifying itself so that it is superior and perfect in a sense. And yet, you seem okay with it. Am I missing something?"

"Why should I or any of us rail against this camp or our place? We are helping to make our people better."

Suddenly, I understood; they saw themselves not as prisoners but workers assisting in the advancement of their people. This place represented a new life, a place of purification. Even the dead served as a cost of superiority rather than the product. Everything that befell us wasn't a hardship because it made someone else's life better. They completely bought into the fallacy. They were like the cool kids in school believing that the sports, the more expensive clothes, the stupidly fast cars, the constant partying and sex made them the best. Sadly, they would never see otherwise. Many more questions I wanted to ask but I couldn't bring myself to do so. The answers I might receive, however truthful, would be coloured by their optimism of the advancement of the Medhan people. Weighted with great fatigue I climbed back up to bed. How could you argue against that? It was a losing battle with no clear way to win, not when they believed wholeheartedly that what they were doing and had been subjected to was for the greater good.

"…when the uplift is ended I will be released. My children are waiting in the village; they're staying with neighbours while I'm gone. It will be wonderful to see them again."

"But what if they're not there? What if they were brought to the camp?"

"They are waiting; we were promised." Promises, like bones, were made to be broken.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Splinter and Fray

The smell of meat cooking permeated the air as Ronon sank his teeth into a piece of the succulent flesh. Even though some of the juices dribbled down his chin, he seemed to growl almost happily. He should be happy as he was the one who caught the animal. Flames flickered heartily as Teyla added another piece of wood. Only the two of them were on the trip and they had left all the extraneous trappings of their adopted society behind. Both carried only the essential items of the Atlantis dwellers. It was refreshing to return to some of the traditions of times past.

"I'll take first watch," Ronon rumbled as he reclined against a stump.

"That is unnecessary. You caught and prepared the meal, I shall take first watch," replied Teyla while reaching to spear another slice of meal. He only grunted but seemed to acquiesce to her argument. They ate in silence for a little while, only the pop of the fire and the creaking trees breaking through. Atlantis had its benefits but nothing could take away the thrill of living on one's own and being completely self reliant.

"We should bank the fire soon," Ronon said softly.

Teyla nodded, rising to her feet. With a quick nod she headed into the woods. The firelight did not penetrate deeply amongst the trees and all too swiftly she was engulfed in shadows. The chilly night air bit at her skin viciously forcing her to pull her coat tighter. She chose a spot; she wanted to be back by the fire as fast as possible. Arms came around her torso squeezing tightly. A hand clapped over her lips. She was lifted off the ground, her feet flailing, as she strove and struck out at her captor. Her assailant only grunted and growled something. Suddenly, there was another trying to capture her legs. Kicking madly, she landed a blow to his head; she heard the thump as he fell. A second kick nailed the one holding her in his knee. The momentary release let her follow with an elbow to the ribs. She struck his face, feeling and hearing the crunch of cartilage as his nose broke. Just as he dropped heavily to the ground two more attacked. In the dark she could make out only their rough forms before they came rushing at her. The first caught her in the stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs. As she doubled over the second one caught her arms and held them tightly behind her back. Quickly, her wrists were secured together and try as she might to avoid it, her ankles as well.

Teyla writhed, struggling to dislodge her attackers but they held on tight. She threw her weight against them displacing one partially. Her arm stung as a knife bit through the flesh in retaliation. Panic washed over her, she needed to get free to warn Ronon. They picked her up, fighting to control her.

"Ronon!" she screamed. "Ronon!"

They only carried her a few feet further before letting her drop to the ground. Hissed whispers volleyed back and forth as they wove between the trees. She heard the faint crackle of the fallen branches and caught the occasional flash of Ronon's gun. "Ronon," she hissed loud enough for him to hear but not truly give her position away.

There was a soft thump in the distance and then he fell to his knees beside her. "You hurt?" he asked unsheathing a knife and slicing through the bonds.

"A little, but it doesn't seem too bad," she replied rubbing her wrists. Unsteadily she rose to her feet, "I fear we should not stray from the firelight." Ronon grunted, still holding his weapon at the ready throughout the trek back. His eyes searched the perimeter of the campsite twice before he took a seat on a stump. Teyla had already begun to dab at her wounds, hissing as her torso twisted and shifted.

"Dawn should be in a few hours, we'll head out then."

"Ronon, thank you," she replied, laying a hand on his arm. Carefully she wrapped her wrists to protect them where the ties had bit in. "They did not seem to be attempting to rob me. I do not believe they were bandits."

"They tried to kidnap you," he growled.

"True, but for what purpose?"

Ronon was quiet for a few minutes. "They might be the same people who took McKay."

Teyla sighed and turned to face him. "The thought briefly crossed my mind, but we have no proof. We cannot act without proof they are the ones who abducted Dr. McKay. It would be unwise to accuse potential allies." He only snorted derisively and turned to stare out into the shadows effectively ending the discussion. She no longer felt the chill of night only the taut wariness of a predator waiting to pounce.

Dawn arrived after what seemed like eternity. Each sound during the night put them on guard. A herd of animals nearly met their end when they had tramped through the forest loudly. Luckily, they had been seen for what they were and quietly allowed to pass. Once the sun broke over the horizon and provided more than the pale orange light of dawn, they took up their packs and journeyed on but not without investigating the area in the woods first. Only the signs of struggle were visible, any of the attackers who had fallen under Ronon's marksmanship and Teyla's defense were gone – they wouldn't have walked away either. There weren't any footprints either save Teyla and Ronon's; it was almost like the attack had never happened. Neither felt any ease, the would-be abductors were professionals, perhaps even soldiers and that made them all the more dangerous. Teyla made a note to recommend sending additional military personnel if they ever came back to the planet.

The silence of the woods slowly faded away and signs of people traveling through began to appear much to their relief. Off in the distance a young woman waved as they passed. The trees thinned as roads formed beneath their feet and the city rose up in the center of the valley before them. More people crossed their path nodding or calling out a greeting. Teyla acknowledged them though Ronon eyed everyone suspiciously. The closer they drew to the city the denser the population became clogging the streets, alleyways, and doorsteps of the buildings.

"This is quite a city," Teyla remarked, winding her way amongst the stalls, customers, and vendors of the market they found themselves in.

"Yeah, wonder why. I haven't seen any sign of Wraith attack," Ronon replied.

"It is unusual to say the least." She looked around, "Come, I believe she can point us in the proper direction," she said gesturing towards a slightly less occupied stall. 'Pardon, my name is Telya Emmagen. I'm trying to find someone."

"Greetings to you both; I am called Bethra," the woman replied. "Who are you in search of?"

"The leader of this city, we need to speak to him."

"Her, you need to speak to her. Yanid is usually in her offices by this time of morn; they're located in the center of the city, you can't miss them. Although if its information you're looking for you would be better off with Master Khettar. He knows everything worth knowing… if you've a mind to pay the price."

"Where would we find this Khettar?"

Bethra looked them over warily, "You don't. If he wants to see you, he'll find you." She smiled just barely curling her lips up, "Good luck speaking with Yanid, I hope she can assist you." She turned, summarily dismissing them to wait upon a paying customer.

Impatience radiated off Ronon as he paced across the waiting area. They had been waiting to speak to Yanid for many hours and all their inquiries as to when they might finally talk had been rebuffed. Yanid's staff was good at their jobs, expertly maneuvering and manipulating people to do what they wanted even if it was just more waiting. Dr. Weir would only dream of having a staff that efficient at her disposal for negotiating or whatever purpose was required. Perhaps Teyla could arrange for the Atlanteans to borrow them the next time a treaty needed to be negotiated.

"Yanid will see you now."

The voice cut through her musing and Ronon's pacing. "About time," he muttered none too quietly as they were led down a labyrinth of halls. She only cast a disapproving look but didn't comment as even her collective patience was beginning to stretch thin. The room they were ushered into overlooked the city, at least the lower portions. Yanid sat behind a large desk gesturing for them to sit in the chairs before her.

She looked them over, "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

Teyla might have accepted the platitude if she was naïve and young, but, she was the leader of her people, she knew how this game worked. "Not at all," she replied evenly. "We were enjoying the opportunity to view this fair city and its people." She paused. "We thank you for accommodating our intrusion in your busy schedule."

"A little diversion makes the day go faster," Yanid smiled thinly. "How do you find the city?"

"Quite astonishing and the citizens very hospitable." Teyla gasped, feigning shock, "Excuse my manners, we have not introduced ourselves -"

"You don't think I know who you are Teyla Emmagen?" Yanid asked as she leaned forward resting her elbows on the desk. "I wouldn't invite strangers in without knowing some information. Now what is it you want? As you can see I'm old; I don't have time for these games my dear."

Internally Teyla smiled, without the pretenses they could get this meeting over with the information required much more quickly. "We're looking for a friend. His name is Rodney McKay and he was kidnapped from the Xetian home world. Any information would be helpful in finding him. We would be willing to offer an alliance in return." She pulled out a small photo, passing it across the desk. "This is the man we seek. He most likely came through the ring of the ancestors - perhaps in the middle of the night."

Yanid looked at the two of them, "I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

"Liar!" Ronon yelled, swiftly drawing and stabbing a knife into the desktop. "You probably took him yourself just like your people tried to capture Teyla last night."

Looking every inch the leader she was, Yanid rose pulling the knife from her desk. "Sit down," she replied forcefully. "You misunderstand me. I cannot help you for my intelligence is limited at best, but you might be useful to us both. Now, you were attempted to be taken last night, tell me about it." She listened carefully as Teyla recounted the events with Ronon interjecting information where he could. "Intriguing," she said, steepling her fingers. "You are the only person I've heard of escaping."

"This has been going on for some time then?" Teyla replied, eagerly absorbing this new knowledge.

"Many months, but not just here, on other planets as well. Most of the time it's one or two that goes missing. At first we thought they had gotten lost, but they were never found. Only their belongings remained. We knew it wasn't the Wraith either. Recently groups of five or more have vanished, some whole families. It's not just my people. Several of our trading partners report the same and no one has any clue. I've got my best people working on it," Yanid looked weary and every year of her age as she spoke. "Please excuse me," she said, wiping her eyes. "I don't take the loss of my people well after all we've survived."

"No one likes to lose a neighbour whether they know them or not," Teyla replied softly. "What kind of people were they? Dr. McKay was a scientist."

"They were farmers, a preacher, beggars, merchants, old women ill in their beds, even children. They took children and families without a trace – who would do such a thing?"

"I am truly sorry," Teyla replied, her voice edged with sadness.

Yanid sighed heavily, "This must end! However, we don't know for certain when the abductions began. At this moment all the records of missing citizens are being searched and that doesn't include travelers to our world. It's not only our people. The Siranians report that more travelers are taken than citizens. Karis of Qatal lists over one hundred gone – some of their trading partners have disappeared completely! Granted they weren't a large clan but still..."

The ever expanding list of the missing weighed heavily on Teyla's mind as they sank further into the ever deepening mystery. She and Ronon were silent as they had trekked back to the gate – a much shorter trip provided by Yanid's generosity. If it had only been learned people then a commonality would exist, yet the variety of backgrounds tied none together. The briefing had not gone well at all, only more questions had been added to the puzzle. Immediately afterwards, Ronon and Sheppard took off to exercise their frustrations. Dr. Beckett patted her shoulder murmuring, "You did well lass." She did not feel like it though. They had not returned with Dr. McKay, she failed. Forty-three days, that was the count. Forty-three days since Rodney McKay disappeared.

"I am sorry Elizabeth," she said, not looking Weir in the eye.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," Weir replied clasping her friend in a hug. "You brought back more information than we possessed and a new alliance. It was more than I dared to hope for. Thank you." If both of them brushed away a few tears, neither said a word.

"Dr. Weir, we're receiving a transmission – it's from the Genii."

She ran to the control room, "Let's see it Sergeant."

Ladon appeared on screen. "I've got some information for you. One of my spies was attacked off world, he fought back capturing one of them. Unfortunately, this man did not survive the injuries gained in his failed abduction attempt so we could not question him. My spy did bring his body home upon which we found this," a small silver insignia filled the screen. "It's an old medallion, our historians are combing through the archives to discover its origin. The man carrying it dressed as a Vekeynesian but certainly is not. Our suspicion is he's a member of a small tribe as he is not identifiable as Harkairn. Once the emblem is identified we'll be able to tell you more, but, for the moment at least there is a large clue to investigate."

"Thank you Ladon."

"You are most welcome. We will keep you posted." The screen faded to black.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 Crack and Shatter

"Why are you here?"

"Carson… Carson did something." The answer rested on the tip of my tongue but I couldn't recall what it was.

"Who is Carson, KV89603? Who is he to you?"

"Healer – I think. I remember big… long… needles."

"He's failing to recall Hæler, and he's one of the firsts. What would you have me do?"

"I can see that you worthless excuse for an assistant! I'm aware the risks this presents. Administer the twenty percent solution!"

"But Hæler!"

"Do it, and don't you dare question my orders again."

"… it's not been tested…" My neck stung, burning like acid had been poured down it; I gave way to scream.

"Tell me again why you're here."

"I was sold by Carson to be a slave. I am here to do what any one of the Comms or my superiors tell me, without question and without fail. Nor can I leave; I am property of this camp – Carson signed a contract."

"Good. For your reward I will let you sleep here tonight."

"Thank you, you are most kind."

The lights dimmed and I was given a thin blanket. It wasn't much, but, that was fine with me. Their voices faded and muffled as the door to the room closed behind them. If I wasn't so drowsy I might have listened to what they said. "That was too long Hæler. It shouldn't have taken him seven times to understand, accept, and remember that. The serum is creating a problem."

"It's inhibiting many of the pathways in the brain, that's what it was designed to do. In this case the affect is spilling over into other spheres of the mind. Without further testing and experimentation I can only guess how it is seeping into other areas. I would have to physically see his brain to know with certainty."

"Shall I put him on a surgery preparation regimen?"

"No, we are too far in to be fixing mistakes now."

"But to know for the future…"

"Normal testing is acceptable; nothing he's demonstrated of late compels me to explore fully his abilities. Soon he'll be of little use to me."

"What about -"

There was the curious sensation of falling and then I landed face first on the floor, my bad hand trapped underneath me. Something crunched during the sudden stop. It felt like my head was ringing; I kept my eyes closed while the world ceased its drunken spinning. Light exploded behind my eyes as pain flared in my side. "Get up!" Slowly, I rose to hand and knees wheezing through the sharp ache. "I said, get up!" The Comm kicked my side again. I recognized the voice; it was the Comm who had told me I would burn one day with the rest. Instantly my heart pounded like a caged animal in my chest as I jumped to my feet. Some blood dripped down my face and onto my clothes, furtively I tried to wipe it away but Comm caught me, "Leave it. There will be more soon." A shudder coursed through me and down my spine as another Comm laughed.

They led me wordlessly out the door and away from the infirmary, deeper into the camp. There were no gates here just rows of buildings and a small open lot. Comm held open the door, tripping me as I went in. There was only a light, a table, and two chairs that I could see though the light only illuminated part of the room. The Comms dragged me to the chair, there were straps I hadn't seen – Efficiently, I was secured to the chair, my hands laid out on the table and restrained, although they had to force the left into place as I cradled it protectively to my chest. A curious thing happened, the not-as-evil Comm left. I thought he would stay around as they were wont to do in the past. I sat in silence waiting for Comm to speak or make a move. The light flickered and buzzed. I longed to speak or for him to speak, anything to break the oppressive quiet. He only stood just looking at me, his eyes sharp and piercing as they stared unblinking from his hood. Beads of sweat formed on my brow. Reflexively, my right hand clenched and unclenched. Still, we waited. I wanted to scream if only to break the silence.

"This will go very easy." Sighing deeply, my head dropped in relief; the little room was not so oppressive anymore. He continued, voice firm and sharp," I will ask some questions, you need only to tell me the answers. Nothing more, nothing less. I know you and the other prisoners have been talking, what do you discuss?"

"Gossip mostly," I replied, my voice a little shaky.

"What about?" He stood behind me where I couldn't turn my head to see.

"Other prisoners, ourselves, sometimes we share stories to pass the time." The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up like they do when lightning is about to strike nearby.

"What about other prisoners specifically?" He queried his mouth now close to my ear.

"Who committed an infraction. Who is dead or recovering. The snippets of stories we've heard about other people." It didn't occur to me to be funny or sarcastic – perhaps in a different lifetime I would have but now was a different reality.

"I don't believe you."

Those words sent a shiver down my spine like a cold clammy hand had clenched my heart. "It's the truth Comm," I whispered. "It's the truth."

"You dare me to believe that with all the time you spend together no one shares anything more than trivialities? Liar!" He screamed in my ear. "You possess some important information, I've heard bits and pieces whispered to other prisoners," he said, his voice echoing as he walked into the shadows only to return with a box. "I was prepared to let you go – if you spoke the truth." Grabbing my shirt, he ripped the sleeve straight to the shoulder. "One way or another you will tell me -"The thin white line stood out against my tanned flesh, he ran a fingertip over it. "You are not unaccustomed to these methods I see. It's excellent work, whoever did this was precise."

No, it wasn't excellent work. It was unnecessary, painful – mostly unnecessary. Only a mad man could call it –excellent-. I shuddered and wanted to pull my arms away but I couldn't. I also didn't want to be here either, but, there wasn't really a choice. "Let's begin with one of your blockmates, BQ89574. What do you know about him?"

My mind swam trying to recall who bore that ID. On some I could recall the characters inscribed upon their flesh but others I had never seen. "I'm sorry Comm," I whispered in fear. "I don't remember this man."

"Very well then," he grabbed my left index finger and pulled, dislocating it. Tears trickled down my face as I cried out. "Same question," he spat harshly.

Out of one hundred forty-four people I was to recall one. I couldn't even think of who it was. It wasn't the woman shot by Head Comm. They wouldn't ask about a dead woman – wait, he asked about a man. "He's dead Comm."

This time I screamed as the digit separated. Not the right answer. I could barely see through the tears that streamed from my eyes. Desperately, I tried to remember the IDs I saw, but so many weren't matching to a face. My body strained against the chair as the next finger was dislocated. "I need an answer," Comm barked. Why couldn't I remember? I needed an answer, a name, a face. My brain scrambled to think logically through the possibilities. The black ink stood out against the flesh. Four occurred fourteen times as an end digit. 'B' I knew appeared once in the least but it was likely to be one third. The pinky popped loudly. So did the thumb. Gasping, I tied to breathe through the haze of pain. Seven-four happened twice, once on a woman. 'Q' was the anomaly. Four began to appear in my mind, then seven and five, nine and eight. The 'B' formed and the 'Q'. The forearm was muscular, lightly peppered with dark hair just like the rest of the arm as the remaining image came in to focus. The hair, the crooked nose – "Bankha!" I shouted the same moment my hand was smashed with a mallet.

Words, breath, and spittle garbled in my throat, choking me. Large black spots danced and swam around me. It was flatter, my hand. Some of the skin broke open on impact; blood seeped out and on to the table. Broken capillaries stood out underneath the surface. A few of the shattered bones stuck up, pushing against – my stomach rolled and heaved. Comm threw a bucket full of icy water on me, "See," he said. 'That wasn't so hard." I tried to look at my mangled hand. "Tell me about BQ89574. What did he do? Who did he know?"

The screaming pain fogging my brain tried to clear, but every beat of my pulse sent it throbbing even more. Desperately, I wished for a doctor as I struggled against the bindings, trying to escape from them and the pain. I teetered on the verge of hyperventilating as tears flooded down my cheeks. My head snapped back, cracking against the chair as tangy copper filled my mouth. "Answer me," Comm growled wiping flecks of blood from his fist. He reached for the mallet, "I will do it again KV89603. It doesn't hurt me to do it – I rather enjoy it."

"Please!" I begged, voice barely above a whisper. "No more." A sob tumbled from my lips, "Please, no… Anything but that! Comm, I beg you!"

He grabbed my chin, forcing our eyes to meet. "What would you have me do? I must have some incentive for you. And yet, I'm not entirely without mercy, I'll let you choose." Various accoutrements emerged from the box, small knives, large bladed daggers, jars with varying coloured contents, and other items I couldn't even begin to identify. "Any one you like," he purred.

"That one." It was bright and shiny, obviously cleansed and most importantly small. As he put the others away I realized my mistake – one edge was thicker than the other and the blade curved slightly. It would give me more scars.

"Tell me about BQ89574."

"His name was Bankha; he was a merchant on Raellia. Bethra was his wife of six years but they had no children. He was the first person I knew. He saved my life." The last part fell as a whisper.

"He was a spy!" barked Comm. "He had information about the camp. Who did he share it with? What did he tell you and others?" The knife slid in easily just above the collarbone, exactly as I knew it would.

My arms, shoulders, even some parts of my legs bore varying shades of red and brown. Comm didn't inflict damage near anything vital, only enough to bleed and cause pain. Somewhere along the way I stopped seeing the blood, I knew it was there but the visual effect was lost. The pain of each wound inflicted ceased for everything throbbed excruciatingly. The room spun madly and at any moment it seemed like I would faint. The shadows in the room had grown longer, larger until the small sphere of light was all that remained. Little puddles of blood grew cool and sticky on the floor; there was a shoe print where Comm had stepped in one of the spots and then walked away. It created a trail like it was following him until all the crimson 'ink' dried up. He asked questions, shouting them often until his voice softened to no more than a gravelly growl. There were no answers to the queries that I could provide. It wasn't that my brain would not recall the correct information, though, it had slowed to the point even the most basic words took ages to decipher. The answers were things I didn't know, had never known, and would never know. Long ago I stopped responding to him; he thought me a liar and punished accordingly. It was just easier to take each stab of the knife.

The door slammed open, two large Comms stormed in. Some part of my mind woke up as they unbuckled the straps and dumped me out of the chair. Like a rag doll I fell and landed in a heap. Comm spoke to them in low tones – nothing I understood or interpreted. A trail of crimson streaked across the floor as they dragged me bodily outside. The rocks and dirt might have stung if my world wasn't already a world full of pain. Biting cold was the night air, the shock of it helped to burn off some of the fog veiling my mind. Perversely, I hoped they would leave me here - the fever flooding through my body would help keep me warm. The Comms had other ideas. Lanterns illuminated a small swathe in the darkness showing a box and a large pile of dirt. Suddenly, every synapse was firing. They meant to put me in there! Weakly, I struggled, trying to escape their grip, but they only held tighter – not that my feeble efforts did much.

The rough wood splinters broke off as they jabbed into my flesh. The box, too eerily close to a coffin, had barely enough room to move let alone breathe in. I sobbed, great tears falling from my eyes as I begged Comm not to put me in here. "Please, no," I stuttered as they fitted the top on.

"This is your chance to think things over," Comm sneered as the lid slid into place. "I hope you'll be more forthcoming after awhile," he shouted to make sure I heard him clearly through the wood.

My little tomb vibrated; each nail I heard unmistakably as they were pounded in. "Please!" I cried. "Let me out!" Violently I rocked back and forth, banging against the sides. Inside my chest, my heart hammered wildly; each breath grew harder to draw and shallower. It was too dark, too narrow, too little. "Help me!" Not caring I banged against the lid with my hands, feet, forearms, anything. White spots flashed brightly. The sides grew closer and closer, pressing in. Fiercely I threw myself against them – had to knock them back – away. Couldn't breathe. No air – choking. Oh God help! Fingers scrabble. No grip. Can't escape. I screamed.

There was a faint thump and scatter. Clawed at the prison. Thump and scatter. Nail ripped out – splinters in its place. Hiss of dirt trickling in. Burying me. Burying! Me! Tear at wood. "God!" Thump and scatter. "GOD! HELP ME!"


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: I promise to keep this short. I'm not exceptionally good at responding to all of you who leave a review mainly due to a lack of time – all work and research and no play makes me something, something... So let me take this moment and say, "Thank you." Okay, there we go. Onward to the important part.

Chapter Ten: Be Sure to Find Me

"They're not coming you know."

"I know," I whispered, my voice shredded and throat raw. Even whispering was almost too much for me.

"Whomever it is you're waiting for they're not coming." The voice was crisp, accented, making certain to hit every syllable.

"I know. I know."

"Then why are you waiting? If there is no point and you know there is no point then why continue on?" I looked out of the corner of my eye – it was too much effort to turn my head. The dark skinned man lay next to me looking at once familiar and yet strange all the same. "I mean, why bother? There is nothing you can and nothing that can be done. It would be easier you know. It's not like you have many choices that you can make all on your own, so why not make your own decision for once? I promise it's not hard… I could distract you if you like."

"I don't know. Maybe waiting is all I have, I give that up and then what?"

"Then you're done? It's the waiting that kills you not the act itself even when you know its coming. But, then again I'm not the one using up their limited oxygen supply. I promise you , it won't hurt. All you have to do make the choice."

I sighed heavily, "I don't know." Slowly, I turned to look at him using what little energy I had left. His dark eyes glittered like they were bright with promises or shining with tears. "What's it like?" I asked softly, my eyelids drifting closed, no longer wanting to expend the effort to hold them open.

"It's better than this."

"Huh." We remained silent for a while with only my ragged breath echoing between us. I wondered if his promises were true. I didn't care about whether there would be pain, I had moved far beyond that and there didn't seem to be any way I could hurt more. It all came down to choice. Was it really that simple? Was this how life was supposed to be? "And if I don't?"

"Excuse me?" he replied as though he was genuinely confused.

"What happens if I don't? Choose that is."

"The choice will be made for you. Perhaps not immediately, but it will happen. You won't ever know until it's too late. This way you get to choose – it's kind of like so long and thanks for all the fish."

"What?"

"A long time ago you would have understood."

"Hey, did we know each other back then? Were we good friends?"

He smiled softly, "I wouldn't call us good friends but we knew each other. For all your faults, you were a good man."

"Can you tell me my name?" I whispered.

"No." He replied sadly, "I cannot," and then faded away.

I sighed; he left me with my silence and nothing more. At least it was familiar to me. At one point in my life I probably longed for it, but now I wrapped the silence around me like a cloak this constant companion of mine - My only companion. Well, at least I was in good company. The air was rank and humid and getting progressively harder to breathe. Sweat caked my skin and some areas were gritty with dirt. "Perhaps it was a good choice to make," I murmured.

"Is that really what you think?" The low rumbling voice said in my ear, startling me. "Perhaps you should have taken my place then."

I sighed heavily, "Perhaps then I wouldn't see the stacks of bodies even in my sleep. I have buried what few friends I had and traded one life for another. I will not leave here therefore the choice is not so bad."

"I see. But you did live; you must make the most of it. You do have a message for my Bethra that has to be delivered – you gave me your word."

"I will never leave; your message won't ever leave. I know this now," I replied wearily. "I'm sorry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I replied acidly. "More and more people are being sent to the other side everyday. They feed us less and less. I'm injured, probably sick and dying because of this place. No one is coming so there won't be a grand rescue. The Comms would rather burn the camp to the ground than release us. Don't you get it? When they called us prisoners they meant for life, however, short that may be." He was silent. "There's nothing you can say to refute that – even you know that. Not much to do but wait."

"I see," he whispered sadly and then disappeared.

I was right; of course I was right. What I witnessed with my own eyes couldn't be wrong. My experiences were more than proof. "Hey. Hey! I've got a question." Silence. "Hello?" Nothing changed.

"No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No…"

"Ofh, dog's breakfast that smells!"

"Animals, all of them."

Eyes stung, watering heavily even when slammed shut. "No. No. No…"

"Look at him, shaking like a leaf in the wind."

"I don't think he's right – "

"Comms!"

"Sir!"

Shadows loomed over, nameless creatures without a face.

"How long has he been in there? Why wasn't he released earlier?"

"We hadn't received orders sir. Comm Kriyl was questioning him."

"I don't care. Just get him out and get back to your posts." Hauled out by arms and feet and dropped into the dirt. It hurt but I did not scream or speak. A small box was held to my shoulder. "Finally." He pulled me to my feet; I could see his face. I was handed a bar of food, "Eat it," he urged as we walked – he walked, I stumbled – towards the center of camp. The food was sitting in my stomach before we got to the first gate. Just before I crossed into the yard, "They're coming," he hissed and pushed me inside. I crashed into another prisoner who caught me before I fell; he was huge and made sure I held steady on my feet before letting go.

"Get back in line," a Comm called out.

His dark, twisted locks of hair swung as he turned and growled in the Comm's direction. We inched forward as meager rations were doled out except to me. I had no work record therefore no food. It didn't matter though; he gave me half his meal. He pushed me towards an open corner of the yard. "What's your name?" he asked between bites. I showed him my forearm. "KV89603. What's your real name?" I didn't say a word, only offered my forearm again then pointed to him. He pulled back his sleeve, the identification blended with his tanned skin but I could still read it, KV97895. When he finished the last bite he leaned in close, "I know your name. It's McKay, trust me on that." It didn't sit well. "I'm Dex." The Comms signaled return to barracks; he helped me to my feet. "McKay," was all he said before he headed down to join his block. He was new; eventually, he wouldn't waste his time talking to someone out his block.

KV97895, Dex, he insisted his name was and wanted me to call him gave me part of his morning meal murmuring something about getting ill if I didn't eat it. After a while, you get used to living on the most meager of rations. I stood in the line for the death brigade, but was held back by a Comm as the others trudged off to work. The moment that hand landed on my shoulder, my heart started racing; my interrogation had never officially finished.

"Not today," Comm spoke quietly as though he didn't want the other Comms to hear. "Trust me, today is not the day." He guided me down the road towards the infirmary but did not enter. Instead, I was led through a gate and down a side road. It ran along bordering an overgrown garden, "This is your job." Comm looked around, waiting for a group of Comms to pass. "Weed the garden but don't steal any food. If anyone talks to you pretend you cannot hear. I'll return to check on you later." I don't know why he was being kind to me for I had done nothing to deserve it. It did very little to ease my mind, rather it made the tenseness of waiting for the other shoe to drop worse. A thought, a phrase slithered through the fog in my head, "Kill him with kindness." How I knew it I couldn't say, but I knew it to be strangely apropos.

A small square was cleared by the time Comm arrived just as the sun began to set. It wasn't a very big patch; the best that could be done single-handedly. Comm looked it over and then said the most unexpected thing, "Good work." Suddenly, it seemed like my brain disconnected and I was watching some surreal event. He reached down and plucked a small white vegetable from one of the vines. Once the dirt was cleaned off, he pressed it into my hand and said, "Eat it." At that point I still could have been hallucinating but I didn't care and ate it. This was the best hallucination ever, I thought as the crisp, cool flavour burst on my tongue tasting slightly like fresh water.

"Time to return to the barracks," Comm murmured as I finished the crunchy treat.

He didn't speak again as we trudged down the road. When we arrived at the gate, the evening meal was still being served. He whispered to the Comm controlling the ration amounts. They spoke for a minute and then the Comm made a notation on his list. With a slight push to my shoulder, I crossed into the yard and stumbled. Dex grabbed my arms, catching me before I fell. Once I had gotten my feet beneath me, he pulled me in line ahead of him. I took the soup with my 'good' hand and cradled the hard bread to my chest; it was a full ration not a half or less. By rights, I shouldn't have even received a third of what I was given because of my poor amount of labour. Everything suddenly seemed off. It was a little too convenient that all of the sudden there was a Comm who treated me well, I received full rations, and a large hulk of a man was protecting me in a way. The last time I had someone try to protect me it didn't seem to have turned out so well. In fact, as I recall life still sucked even when he was alive. "No!" I shouted, throwing my food to the ground. "This isn't real! What are you doing to me?"

Three Comms were instantly striding towards me, two had their weapons drawn, but Dex grabbed me first. "Quiet," he growled, his hands gripping my shoulders tightly.

But the time spent here had made me thinner, wiry, and possibly a little crazy. I twisted and slipped from his grasp shouting, "Stay away from me!" I shuffled a few steps back putting some distance between the Comms and him. Instincts told me to run; my body lacking strength and ability could not obey. Other prisoners were watching me uncertain as to what was going on. Meanwhile, some of them who had been here as long as or longer than I were trying to escape unobtrusively into their barracks. They probably feared that this would end much like the riot had. Not like I could blame them. A bullet to the head would be the best ending for me and the nicest. Worse things could and had happened, but a swift death would be the kindest thing ever done. Someone else could bury me or not; it wouldn't really matter to me at that point anyways. At that moment I noticed Dex looming over me, he was speaking or screaming something but I couldn't hear a sound. A laugh almost bubbled up for it seemed comical that this big man who looked large and mean wasn't making a sound. And then it became clear, his lips formed one word over and over – McKay. I jumped as the sounds that surrounded came rushing back in my ears. My weight on its own wasn't enough to knock him over, but surprise allowed me to send him stumbling back and gain the upper hand. "Who are you?" I hissed, my hand at his throat. "What did Comm promise you to get information from me?"

"I'm a friend McKay," he spat back.

"Quit calling me that!" I snarled, shaking my head.

The momentary distraction allowed him to grab my arm and twist it up behind me. "I'm not trying to get information. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm a friend," he kept his voice low so the Comms couldn't hear. "Your name IS McKay. I knew you outside of this prison, that's how I know your name. You have to trust me."

I screamed and started struggling regardless of how it hurt my arm. The Comms advanced while I lashed out with my feet and thrashed my body about. "LIAR!" I screamed, coughing a bit at the end. My wrist slipped from his hold and I was free. Three steps was as far as I got before he and the Comms grabbed me and pulled me to the ground under their weight. He tried to pry them off earning a blow to the head for it. Two of them clutched me under my arms, dragging me through the dirt and towards the gate. The third kicked Dex's side once before sprinting to unlock the gate. Comm didn't wait long after they hauled me through to slam it closed.

Dex shook off the daze, swiped at some of the blood trailing down the side of his face, and got to his feet. He ran to the gate, clutching the metal bars as the Comm tried to push him away. "McKay!" he shouted. "McKay!" We turned on to the main road with more fences and things between us and him. He ran along the fence, "Trust me!" He ducked and swooped trying to peer through the open spaces and catch my gaze. I saw him just before a building obstructed the space between. "Trust me!" he shouted. "Trust me! They're coming!"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Deals to Break

"We choose not to involve ourselves in this matter," the council president said, his words transcribed by the council scribe for archive record. "As we are not directly attached to your problem it is our decision to remain as outsiders and render neither action nor aid. It is the will of the council, so let it be written."

Lathan leapt to his feet, "Not directly attached? They are dressed as Vekeynesians; in these guises they steal people. You're involved whether you like it or not. Some day soon they will kidnap the wrong person and then the captive's people will come for you. You're involved sir."

He looked down from his raised seat imperiously, "Your threats have been noted, yet it is still the will of the council to choose not to involve ourselves. And should others come, they will find the same answer as you have. It is not our trouble."

"We thank the Vekeynesian High Council for their time." Weir glanced at the faces of their alliance noting the anger and disappointment splashed across them, "We'll go plead our case to the Harkairn. Perhaps they will be more open." Somehow, she thought slamming her head into a brick wall might be slightly more productive. The other alliance members clearly felt the same judging by their body language and the frustration that radiated off of them.

Lathan seethed quietly as he walked in step beside her, a feeling John Sheppard shared. He would "give anything for some C-4 right now," as he whispered quietly. "If only to stick some right up the council president's –" Teyla bumped his side purposefully, her face didn't show it but her eyes told him she felt the same and it made him smile just a little. He tapped his radio once, "Ready the jumpers, Major, and radio Beckett that we'll be gone a little longer."

"Understood, sir."

"On second thought, he'd take Ronon over C-4 any day. If only he was with them, he could scare the council into helping. All Sheppard would have to do get his people out, then lock the doors quietly behind them, and leave Ronon to his work. It could be fun." He smirked for only Teyla to see.

"Colonel," Weir spoke loud enough to garner his attention. She sighed and for a moment the diplomat mask slipped, the drained feeling she felt peeked through. Of course, they all felt that way after searching, gathering information for months, and arguing their case to the High Council for the past two days. The Atlanteans had only been dealing with this for a little over six months while other alliance members lived with the problem for much longer. It still frustrated the hell out of her though. "The Harkairn province, please." Lathan sat beside her. "Perhaps they'll listen," she murmured to no one in particular.

Less than an hour later, Jumper 1 and the three others landed inside the capital city. No one stood though; they would not step outside until a representative of the government appeared. It allowed all twenty-four members of the alliance and their respective security forces to remain in safety as well. Yanid smoothed her gown as though she was trying to soothe her nerves. Just as the last time, the waiting was fraught with tension; but, finally a small contingent emerged from the capital flanked by guards. The jumpers opened and slowly, looking their most authoritative, the alliance exited.

"Prince Jaipeth sends his greetings to you and wishes to know your business," the robed little woman bowed deeply for a moment and then straightened.

"This is Yanid of Raellia," Weir said gesturing to her right. "And this is Lathan Radim of the Genii on my left. May I also introduce Teyla Emmagen of Athos, Karis of Qatal, the Sirani High Priestess, Minister Arvid of Xetian, Tvaere of Belufon, as well as the representatives of the Unified Clans. And I am Dr. Elizabeth Weir of Atlantis."

For a moment the woman seemed taken aback but recovered quickly, "Prince Jaipeth will wish to speak with you immediately."

The prince was young, no more than fifteen and looked like he should be outside playing rather than sitting on a dais in a grand hall. He rose as they entered and crossed the hall, "Welcome to Harkairn," he offered in greeting as his advisors grumbled in the background. He bowed to each representative as they were introduced. "It is not everyday I meet such distinguished visitors. How can I be of service?"

"Prince Jaipeth, we request your assistance with your neighbours the Medhans," Weir spoke, her voice neutral. "We have evidence they have been kidnapping citizens of the peoples represented here and many other planets. They capture their victims at random, yet, whole clans and tribes have also disappeared. What makes their crime worse is they masquerade as Vekeynesians at times, and it's not only Medhans who are involved. One of Lathan Radim's men managed to subdue his captor who was later identified as Harkairn. The victims are being held prisoner with no ransom asked in return. We can only calculate their numbers to be in the thousands."

"My people? They cannot be involved," Jaipeth replied incredulously. "It makes no sense." His gaze fell across their faces, trying to discern the truth. "We do not freely associate… I do not understand."

Unfolding her clasped hands, "Given your histories I know it's difficult to believe," replied Weir. "Yet it's not impossible. However, the more important issue is our people being held against their will. As there is no formal Medhan government, we first approached the Vekeynesian High Council - "

" – and they chose not to respond," he interrupted her. "It is not you; the High Council prefers to keep to themselves. They would not assist us if we ever required it. We may be one world, yet, as you have found we are wholly divided peoples. But this theft of thousands troubles me." He snapped fingers, "Irie, fetch me the records from the last overview and… Comm Ragan should still be in the city, send him back here as well." Jaipeth rubbed his temple wearily, "If they held all your people we should have noticed – we would have noticed!"

The door of the hall flew open, "Prince Jaipeth."

"Comm Ragan."

The man bowed curtly, his face scarred, harsh with unforgiving angles. Ragan's eyes glittered darkly as he looked over the alliance contingent. "I thought our meeting concluded some time ago."

"It did, but these guests have leveled some serious charges at the Medhans which I felt you should hear." Jaipeth sighed, "Many of their collective citizens have been kidnapped and they have proof some of your people are involved. To complicate this, the captors are posing as Vekeynesian and some Harkairn are working in conjunction with them. I have asked for the records of the last overview to be brought – ah, here they are. Dr. Weir, we conduct overviews every ten lunae cycles as per the Peace Accords. This last one was conducted a little more than three cycles past. Ragan, if you would read our findings."

With a slight nod of his head he took the record book from Irie. "The record states," he spoke loudly, his voice rough and measured. "Some advancement in the areas of industry and farming have occurred; however, it does not deviate from expected increases as a result of growth within the province. The level of technology commensurates with the levels as previously observed. The only significant change is in population which has decreased."

"And why did the Medhan population decrease Ragan?"

"We lost them in a rosura fever epidemic. The weakest succumbed first, those too sick or unable to fight the illness. Many of the elders passed as well, only the strong survived."

"If I may," Weir interjected. "How did you prevent further outbreaks especially with the high death rate?"

"We burned the bodies so that our soil and water would not be contaminated." He did not notice the look that passed between Lathan, Weir, and Sheppard. "We are still burning victims as it has taken much time for our people to recover their strength, hopefully we will be done with it soon – another six days or so I think."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, "How do you answer the claims of kidnapping?" Her voice had become frosty, the obfuscations by Ragan and the relative acceptance Jaipeth displayed wore too thin. It was plain to see the Comm was lying, and the prince's advisors should have picked that something was off in his responses. Nothing felt right about the whole situation anymore. "Well?"

Ragan stared at her for a moment as if sizing her up; he broke his gaze when Sheppard's hand came to rest on his P-90 near the trigger guard. "I can state with full knowledge that no such act has taken place on our soil nor would we harbour any such criminal. I can only offer that perhaps you are mistaken for no one in the Medhan province has carried out such an act. However…" His voiced oozed and dripped placation, "Some of our people have chosen to build societies on other worlds, as I cannot vouch for them I suggest you seek your people there." He turned towards the prince, "Prince Jaipeth, I hope I have answered satisfactorily your questions. If so, I must beg your pardon for I have many matters needing my attention."

"Of course," he replied with a wave of his hand. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, "Dr. Weir, other guests, I hope this has satisfied you. Our records and Comm Ragan's own testimony show that your claims, at least in regards to the Medhan province, are unfounded. I can only suggest you seek your people elsewhere, and wish the ancestors' blessings you find everyone you have lost."

In other situations Weir might have tried to implore him once more, but Prince Jaipeth had already left the hall with his advisors trailing behind. Only Irie remained. "We can see ourselves out," she said to the woman and turned. She waited until they were safely outside the capital's corridors before speaking again. "Lathan, get word to your man," she said lowly so only those closest could hear. "Colonel Sheppard, your mission has a 'go'. Bring them home and let the others do what they will."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I cannot tell you how exceedingly embarrassed I am at how long it has taken to write a new chapter. Some of you very kind souls asked a while back when the new chapter was coming and I said the answer was shortly. That was horrible of me to drag it out, but the real world got in the way. But, here we are. Hopefully this can help make up for wait. To everyone still reading, thank you.

Chapter Twelve: Twilight Shadows

What had begun as a conversation held in muted whispers swiftly had turned to an argument in hissed sharp sentences and wild gesticulations volleying back and forth. The two Comms held my attention and I wanted to hear what had them arguing so vehemently though I tried not to show it lest they noticed and punished me. Even through the snapped words I knew the Comm who had yet to beat me with anything but kindness was one of the speakers, except I didn't know precisely which one. "Kyohae!" Everyone froze; it was like a blanket of silence had been dropped over the yard. Even the other Comms were silent. Both glared at one another as if the anger in their eyes would cause the other to burst into flames. "Kyohae," the not nice Comm sneered and then reached for his weapon. The ground met him harshly as he sank to his knees, a punch to the gut knocking the wind out of him. His gun never made it out of the holster.

"What are you looking at?" Comm shouted. "Eyes down, head down," broke the pall sending everyone scurrying to their places. Everyone did as commanded, the Comms in the yard walked amongst us, lashing out indiscriminately at any who seemed to move from the lines. I kept my head down, staring intently at the dirty scabs on my feet. My vision swam a little as the tiny sparkles glittered in my eyes, but I was used to it and didn't pass out like others would. It was like the tremours, the general weak feeling, and the pain, after awhile you didn't notice it much any more. Merely accepted it and moved on. Acceptance was the key to survival at least in this part of our small world. The things one could put up with, the conditions, limitations, treatment… Ija. Ija would have survived if she had just accepted anything – everything. But she kept fighting, pushing back even when there was nothing to fight against. She argued with the Comms even though it cost her a beating and a day in the boxes. At meals Ija wanted more food, even stealing bits from block mates if they were too slow in protecting what meager morsels they – we- earned. So they sent her to the other side of camp, to work. Cutting out her tongue like all the others who worked there didn't stop her for she still found ways to rebel. In the end though, it got her nothing but a piece of rope smuggled from the other side, a quick drop, and a sudden stop. Her barrack mates untied her and laid her in the yard before morning count lest they be in trouble for having the count come up one short. She was on my cart that day; I made certain she lay face up so she could see the sky – it was the least and only kindness I could give her. It was her body that was covered last.

Dex's hand wrapped around my upper arm forcing me to fall back from the line, "You and me are working together today, McKay," he spoke quietly as if passing along important secrets. I didn't respond; didn't react. I had no desire for a repeat performance of the last time he spoke to me. I could still feel the sting of the needles Hæler injected me with and the sharp bite of the rough floor into my hand and knees as I tried to catch myself after the Comms threw me into an unused room and bolted the door so I would rant in peace. The screaming didn't last too long before the injection took effect and the floor opened up to let me slip beneath it. The shock of icy water dumped by KahVey pulled me up to reality as he muttered that I smelt. Turned out I had been sedated for almost three days. Dex seemed worried when I returned but didn't approach and watched intently from afar. I did kind of miss the extra food he gave – the few extra pieces had spoiled me just a little but I was getting used to normal rations again. "You hear me, McKay?"

Lifting my head ever so slightly, my gaze caught his for just a moment and dropped. I had heard him and now he knew. He snorted – growled- but said nothing in return as we sped up to rejoin our line. It was nice to venture beyond the gates of our yard and it felt lighter somehow even though the heavy stench of death weighted downed the air. The shovel handle was warm and rough but familiar feeling to my hand, welcoming in a way like an old friend. Even the dirt path towards my pit had the same feeling, but the air was different. It had an unusual electricity coursing through making it feel 'off'. Dex could sense it too judging by his posture, tense and wary – a predator observing their intended prey. The Comms though, didn't seem to notice or if they did none overtly showed awareness. They chatted quietly amongst themselves, doling out punishment or motivation when they felt it necessary to assert their position.

Sweat dripped down my forehead, sliding in my eyes and stinging them. Wiping it away did very little, more immediately took its place. Not even midday and the sun scorched everything even the dirt freshly dug. Our thin tattered clothes clung tightly, sodden with sweat. Dex's shirt lay beneath our assigned cart, damp and discarded long ago. Others had done the same and their flesh glistened, decorated with tinges of pink burns. Even Dex with his darkened skin began to burn across his shoulders. There was no desire in me to add the ache of sunburn to my pain; let the others fight over the green-spired plants to soothe their ailments. If the leafy things could provide water then that would be a different story – if the Comms would provide water… I wouldn't be in the right place nor would it be pure, more likely the cruelest of blows the Comms could deliver. Offer water to slake our thirst and leave us to die in agony from poison, even kindness comes with a cost.

"McKay." With a clang the shovel hit the ground; his voice so unexpected startled me entirely. Quickly it was retrieved, hopefully before a Comm noticed and looked over to investigate. The beating they'd give for not working would definitely be fierce or they'd assign me to a box – today the heat of it would kill me. Glaring at Dex, I sunk the blade of the shovel into the dirt and pulled the last corpse from the cart by its foot. If it hadn't been a little child so light and lithe I wouldn't have managed on my own. In it went with the rest, sliding down the side until it lay against the others. "She's a child," Dex murmured as if surprised somehow. His eyes searched mine but I could only touch his arm and give him the only answer I knew: at least she would never know. They were quickly covered and ready for the next cartload being brought down the path.

"Hey! Hey you, KV89603!" Instantly I looked up and mistakenly looked straight into the eyes of a Comm. Without blinking he backhanded me across the cheek sending stars shooting through my vision. "Eyes down; head down."

"Yes, Comm," I replied softly. Dex glanced up at him and I stuck the shovel blade into the dirt.

"Come with me."

I nodded as he turned and walked away not bothering to see if I was following behind. Of course, I was and would be since it wasn't wise not to follow their commands and they knew it. However, very few abused that position and used it to their advantage. In the grand scheme of things, we were lucky in that regard. The few who did extend their commands weren't terrible about the tasks, at least as far as anyone knew. They seemed to keep 'requests' limited to laundry or other cleaning tasks according to the whispers of gossip around the various barracks. But, the extra tasks came with a downside: they had to be done on top of previously assigned work and provided no extra benefits, not even one morsel of food from their much rumoured well-set tables. Nor was there any information that could be shared about the camp as none of the Comms would utter more than pleasantries and idle chatter with a prisoner around. I don't know who received the benefit: the Comms for having the knowledge of what was truly going on or us for not knowing.

"Go with this Comm to the infirmary, Hæler wants to see you."

"You'll have to move fast, she wants to see you right away," the second Comm replied gruffly. The voice was familiar, it seemed to belong to the 'nice' Comm but the harsh tone was different – at least I had never heard it directed at me. "Get a move on," he growled, grabbing me by the arm tightly. But, instead of grabbing where I was already injured like most Comms would to motivate me to move faster, he made certain to avoid those areas. Except as I stumbled, startled by the revelation did he squeeze the damaged flesh as if to say "act nonchalant" and "don't screw things up". My sure steps recovered quickly and we walked away without further incident.

He led me for some distance in silence, nodding in greeting to passing Comms. As I went to turn left through one of the gates he finally spoke, "No, this way." We ventured down the middle path; the buildings growing less frequent and maintained and trees sprouting in their place. No Comm walked the road and the sounds of the work brigades faded with each step. The back of my neck prickled, nervous and in warning. Glancing about, there wasn't anywhere I could run – even if I could run. The trees were thick together and the underbrush high; even still, I could make out the occasional glimpse of fencing. So even if I did somehow manage to flee I would still be trapped and too easily caught but not pardoned. Comm grabbed both shoulders, obviously noting my reticence. "You aren't going to run away," he said, his voice no longer gruff but brooking no argument.

"No, Comm," I replied, not looking at him.

"I need you to know I'm not going to hurt you. Okay?"

How do you respond to that? Yes, I had been treated well by him so far. But, he's a Comm. _'I am not entirely without mercy.' _I'd heard words like that before dressed in the dulcet tones of feigned placation and empathy. Mercy turned out to be anything but. Being brought out here didn't help his case either. Past experience weighed too heavily out of his favour. Before I knew it, the word slipped out of my mouth, "No." The inhale following got stuck in the back of my throat. I – I said 'No' to a Comm. My mind swam as potential images of what would happen fluttered and collided as desperately I tried swallowing around the lump glued to the back of my throat.

"Hey." The lump dropped heavily with a bounce in my stomach. "I will not hurt you. I swear. I need you to do exactly as I say." Both hands grasped my cheeks so we were seeing eye to eye. "We are going to the infirmary; Hæler does want you. But you have to do something for me. She tests drugs on you, correct?"

As if he didn't know. "Yes, Comm."

"Don't care how, but, steal a vial. Everything she uses you take. Pills, liquid, whatever -"

"– But -"

"No! Steal one of everything. _Hide_ it. You have to; your life depends on it! Trust me on this," he said forcefully, flecks of spit hitting my face.

_Trust me_. Where had I heard that before? "Why?" I wondered, suspiciously.

"The less you know about what is happening in the infirmary the better. All you need to know is that something is not right. Hæler…" His mouth clamped shut, biting back whatever he had meant to say. "I need your trust in me -"

"- I'm sure you can earn it if you really try."

Warmth blossomed on my cheek stinging sharply. "Do as you're told," he hissed as his hand slowly dropped to his side. "Get the medicine; keep it with you at all times." He glanced at the timepiece dangling on his chest, "We've got to go."

"What if I get caught?" I asked as we turned down a path further into the woods.

"Don't." The last word he spoke to me for the rest of the walk which wasn't long. The infirmary loomed before us quickly, rising out of the trees. We must have been on one of the first roads built in the camp. KahVey was waiting on the steps as we approached with a disapproving frown on his face. "Gave me some trouble, didn't move fast enough. Had to give him some encouragement," Comm murmured seeming angry. KahVey merely tutted and pulled me inside impatiently.

He didn't speak to me but the surrounding air swirled with annoyance. I fell onto the nearest bed as he pushed me out of the way, buzzing to and fro from cabinet to cabinet. Strips of bandages and small cloths were gathered up and deposited on the bedside table. Under his breath, KahVey muttered as he puttered about. Something had his attention and his annoyance, but it was too unintelligible to know precisely what that something was. He was even less communicative than usual; during my routine visits he would direct me to sit or make some comment to me instead of speaking in irritated body language.

"KahVey!" The yell echoed down one of the side hallways and into the main room. He dropped the tray, both of us a little startled and scuttled away grumbling. Two cloth squares, some slides and pipettes and three syringes partially hidden beneath a towel glittered in the light. Even though they had been cleaned, a few flecks of brown blood decorated the edges. Some of the speckles were most likely my own among many others. None of the syringe contents emitted any colour, just fine little bubbles of air that floated to the top as I shook each one. KahVey had left the counters free of anything that could clue me in to the liquid contents. Come to think of it, few items beyond bandages, dressings, linens and the rare antiseptic even emerged from the cupboards lining the wall. Obviously, medication was kept elsewhere, but, where? So many rooms and hallways split off the primary care room that any be the medicine store. And what if it wasn't kept with the regular medicines? I certainly couldn't ask Hæler where she kept it and KahVey wouldn't tell me either… But he could show me –

"KV89603," Hæler said; I jumped as she suddenly appeared in my vision. She let out an amused chuckle at my discomfiture and then the no-nonsense expression slid over her features. "Why did you not respond just now? I called you twice."

"Sorry, Hæler. I wasn't paying attention," I offered up sheepishly.

Her lips pursed for a moment, "Does this happen often - your inattentiveness?"

"Sorry ma'am, I was thinking of other things." How could I admit that I probably had lost track of myself and my surroundings at least once if not more? It's not like she caused it, just too much thinking beyond current reality and too little attentiveness to everything else. Hæler's response was a sniff and a note on her pad before grabbing my head and tilting it to the side to expose my neck. Quickly, she stabbed a needle into the vein, depressed the plunger, withdrew it, and had the others in just as swiftly. The cloths were pressed against the wound and she left with the instructions, "Not to bleed all over the floor." With her departure the room was empty for KahVey hadn't returned either. None of the strips of bandages he had laid out had been used. Not that I could exactly tie them around my neck either, but I could use them elsewhere. It wasn't efficient but I managed to wrap my poor battered hand, wrapping and layering the pieces to afford me some protection – much better than none.

Looking around, the only Comm I could see was lying unconscious on a bed and any other patients remained cloistered behind drapes. KahVey and Hæler hadn't reappeared. Comm's directive echoed in my head. Shudders ran down my spine when I thought of what he might do if I disobeyed orders. Carefully, I strode across the floorboards, tossed a glance behind, and as there weren't any witnesses slipped quietly into the nearest hallway. It split off into three more passages. KahVey's voice trickled down the left corridor through the silence and heavy pall. What he was saying seemed garbled, but certainly he was still grumbling over whatever had aggravated him in the infirmary. Hæler had disappeared down to the right when she left, leaving me one option.

The worn boards beneath my feet thankfully didn't creak or groan as I trod them. Just my silent shadow jumping in the flickering overhead lights accompanied me. Most of the rooms were dark, any outside windows having long since been covered. The first few contained nothing but other inmates – patients. Some packed so full their drawn, sallow faces pressed against the observation glass. A woman lifted her eyes ever so slightly to glance at me. All colour had left them; her irises only the slightest bit of grey against a yellowed background and so very dull. Short little puffs of her breath clouded the glass as I stared. Slowly, her eyelids fell to the half lidded look of detachment. Perhaps she had seen me or perhaps I was nothing more but a shadow through glass. None of the others caught in passing noticed or raised their heads to look. Few even had their eyes open. The further down the corridor I went the more they blurred together. Men indistinguishable from women and one face the same as another. The glass panes grew smaller too until finally each door was only solid wood with small tags tacked upon them. If only the written characters made any sense, but they were in the language of the Comms. Smart really; help our keepers keep their secrets longer from those who shouldn't know. But I needed to know.

Taking a breath, I opened the first door, planning methodically to check each room. It smelled like must and rotting leaves; a shrunken figure curled inwards on a dingy bed. The second room didn't smell much better; it, however, was empty. Fewer lights illuminated the hallway and less penetrated into each darkened room. Each successive door had to be opened wider and wider but still I had to step into the shadows, swallow down my fear and find what lurked or lay inside. Most contained more individuals wallowing in a horrid stench and clinging to themselves. The pain they were feeling or had felt radiated off of them so strongly it was a wonder no one else sensed it. Yet, maybe they had. I hadn't seen one person that wasn't a patient, not KahVey, Hæler or her assistant come down this corridor. But then again, one didn't think about what they couldn't see.

He wasn't curled up, the thin figure lying before me. Cracking open his eyes, he blinked a few times unlike the others who hadn't noticed my intrusion. "Bu?" I froze hoping that he would think me just a hallucination. "Bu?" His voice grew louder. He knew; I had his attention. And now he wanted mine. "Bu? Bu! Bu!"

"Shut up! Shut up!" KahVey, Hæler, someone would hear – probably already heard him. Pushing the door closed, I rushed towards his bed hoping that wood would muffle the sound. But he kept emphatically speaking, growing louder with each succession.

"Bu! Bu!" His head thrashed as I tried to stifle him. Digging my fingertips into the soft skin in the sharp hollows of his cheeks silenced him slightly. A stinging tingle radiated from my hand and up the arm. He grinned as I pulled away, lips dark against stark white flesh. Thin droplets slid down over calluses and caught in the furrows and swirls etched there. "Bu! BU!"

From down the hall, Hæler starting yelling with KahVey responding back loudly. They were going to find me. "BU! BU! B-" He flailed; words and air smothered by his own pillow. His weakness, my advantage. The blows buffeting my arm barely registered while he struggled to escape. For a moment, his hands wrapped around my forearm; nails tearing at layers of skin. Frantically, he then tried clawing at the pillow but I didn't let up. The scrabbling motions grew weaker and weaker until his hands dropped to the mattress. Inside my own chest, my heart pounded erratically. After it had slowed a little did the pillow fall free of my hands. His unseeing eyes stared up at me, a shudder raced down my spine. Like his lips after biting me, a partial handprint practically glowed in contrast to the pillow case. Carefully, I lifted his head as the slow shuffle of KahVey crept through the door. Shoving the pillow beneath his head, I dropped to my knees, ignoring the pain and wiggled beneath the bed.

KahVey grumbled, "I bring you another dose in moment," as he cracked open the door. Hopefully he didn't notice the bloodstain that probably wasn't covered. But… KahVey was going to show me where the medicines were kept, even if he didn't know it yet. Sliding out, quietly, I crept to the door; peering out but not opening it further. Three doors down, he disappeared inside a lit room which happily (for me) didn't seem to be locked. It was so close the entire time. He didn't spend long there. Dirty, fetid linens and corner shadows concealed me from his view. Nothing was uttered even as the man's head lolled back as the sharp needlepoint split the flesh over the now unpulsing vein. KahVey didn't see the blood that should have bubbled up behind his retreating back.

An escaping sigh echoed loudly; a sigh unknowingly held. Perhaps Comm was right about the goings-on in the infirmary. KahVey's shuffling gait faded from earshot; carefully, I extricated myself from hiding. I didn't look back pulling the door shut. I couldn't – wouldn't. Better him than me… right? Clicking softly, the door latch slid free of its jamb with little resistance. Long shadows of tall shelves rushed out into the hall. Various colours washed over me, arraying everything in rich hues. Strange how familiar the honeyed orange and yellow, crisp green and blue seemed especially when swirling my hand through and between the projected rays – like I had basked in them before. I had to stick to my orders. The cobwebs cleared with a shake of my head. KahVey could return at any moment for supplies and then I could only hope to be dead. Up and down the aisles I searched. The room was larger than anticipated, but, the last four rows contained tray upon tray of clear vials. Many, though, weren't full only partially. Reaching for one, I stopped. Which to bring back to Comm? A half vial would probably be expected since I knew the contents were used often. If something wasn't right in the infirmary then a full vial might not be expected. Time was running out, I'd spent too much here. I had to leave. Grabbing the full one, I fled making sure to close the door behind me.

"Has there been any message from Comm Ragan?" Hæler's voice echoed around the corner. Her footsteps could be made out and were growing louder.

"No, Hæler."

The first door to my right, the room was too open; there wasn't any place to hide nor was there an exit door to escape outside. I wouldn't be able to get out without her knowing. The next door only rattled the lock, loudly. Much too loudly. Hæler's steps stopped – suddenly my throat tightened! She was going to find me! Desperately, every door was opened as quietly as I could in my haste. Too many rooms offered no safety, period. Others, I couldn't see anything and didn't know what or whom they contained.

"Why won't he answer me, the swine – I didn't mean that and don't you dare repeat it, understand?"

She was close; I glanced back. Part of her shoe appeared around the corner. My fingers grasped the cool metal of a doorknob. Her companion's foot landed. Slowly, the knob turned. I could see the grey legs of her uniform pants rounding the corner. With a soft click the bolt released letting me slip in just as they completely turned down the hall. Quietly, I panted hoping the thundering rushing pulse in my ears couldn't be heard outside of the room which appeared to be an office – Hæler's office! I wanted to let my legs give way and slide to the floor but would likely never get up again. Slowly, my fingers unclenched from around the vial. There had to be some place I could put it and not catch the Comm's or Hæler's eye. If it went under my tongue, accidentally it might be swallowed or choked on. Yet, a slight lump in my bandage wouldn't be too obvious; instead, passed off as an end or thickness in the fabric especially under the knot. Fingers shaking, the knot struggled to but finally came loose. Tugging on the layers, I managed to pull them far enough away from my palm to be able to slip two fingers under. The vial fit in easily and a few yanks of the bandages tightened against my hand.

"Get his junior to get an answer from him. Get someone." Her voice carried straight through the wood at my back. Any moment I was a dead man. Rushing around, I threw myself into the only hiding place there, under her desk. Knees to chest, air hung in my lungs, not daring to be exhaled. Hopefully, she wouldn't be stopping to do paperwork – anything that would make her see me. The doorknob jiggled and it opened. On the desktop, papers were shuffled and then there was a resounding thunk as something was dropped. She cursed as her pen rolled off the edge, hit the floor and skittered to a stop next to me. "Never you mind," she muttered under her breath. "Forget what I told you," she called out to her retreating lackey. "I will contact Ragan myself." And left with a slam of the door. My knees protested slightly as I scooted out from the desk. If my heart pounded any more it would fly right out of my chest - too many close calls for comfort. Whatever was going on, Comm needed to deal with it himself. I wasn't earning enough food to cover this insanity no matter how much extra he gave me. Never again.

Hissing as my feet impacted the earth, a quick glance showed no one witnessed my crawl out Hæler's window. Luckily, dusk covered the camp in long inky shadows – easier for me to steal through back towards the barracks without getting caught. Most Comm's didn't pay attention to the cast shadows once darkness fell; they were more concerned in getting a good seat at the dinner table. Sticking to the edges would conceal me while I could at least know what was in my path. Even better still, the lack of gates along the infirmary road; less explaining for me to do. Warm was the pavement beneath my feet, smoother and with fewer rocks than the dirt sides. The air, though, had cooled considerably and seemed to keep a chill. A very cold night it would be. Bankha – if he had lived we could have huddled together for warmth; but, another night shivering on my hard wooden slab alone. Would it be so bad? Not going back? Above, the last slivers of twilight tangled in the branches of the trees. I caught a leaf floating to the ground. Silence all around me. For once completely alone and yet without the fear usually accompanying it. It could be done; I could disappear. Just turn back down the road and take the path to the right past the infirmary. Cross over the burial grounds and then hide in the woods until the end of… whatever. I could do it; it would work and no one would ever know – except Dex. He'd notice; then a Comm will know. After they were finished with me – if they ever finished with me – blessed, death would be. No, hiding was not safe at the moment. Too many strings attached and too few ways to cut each thread. Sighing heavily, I walked on.

Slowly the gates began to come into view. Most of the Comms had gone off duty for the night thankfully. "You're late," one did say while reluctantly opening the gate. The rest of the keepers merely grunted when I asked to pass through.

"Thank you, Comm," I murmured to each one. "Thank you."

"Where have you been?" the Comm at the yard gate sneered. "Death brigade came back before dark, why didn't you?"

"Infirmary, Comm." My upturned bandaged hand held out to show him, "Hæler called for me," I said softly, staring hard at his feet.

My whole arm exploded in agony, his baton striking twice across the palm. Tears leaked down my cheeks. "I don't believe you," he growled.

Instinctively, I cradled my arm to my chest and fell to his feet. "P-Please, Comm. I was there, Comm." My forehead pressed against his dusty boots. "– not lying Comm. Believe me, please!"

Dust swirled around my face, kicked up by another Comm. "He was there." 'Nice' Comm. Quickly, I scuttled around, kneeling before him. "I took him to KahVey myself on Hæler's command." Fervently, I kissed his boots. "She must have finished early and released him. Check with her if you want."

"You outrank me so I have to accept your word." Lowering his voice, "even if I don't believe it."

"That's enough 89603," Comm said to me. "Back inside with you." His hand wrapped around my upper arm, guiding me to standing. Whispering, he said, "Nod if you got it." Ever so slightly did my head dip.

A roll snatched from the passing food servers he handed to me and closed the gate behind me loudly. Wiping the remaining tears away, I stumbled to my usual spot. Dex's massive hulk loomed nearby. At least he waited until I sat and began picking at the crust before approaching. Slowly and carefully, I chewed each piece grateful for no bugs in tonight's meal. Soup would have made it better but my side trip took too long. I would survive until morning though.

"Where'd you go?"

"To market."

He made a sound; it could have been a growl or a laugh in response. "You're fine," he said. Maybe he was the crazy one. An odd expression on his face, he rose and wandered off leaving me to eat in peace.

Little shivers tickled my skin while the cold bed warmed up. Faint puffs of air caught in the dim light for moment before the Comms locked the barrack door. Carefully slipping a finger beneath the bandages, the vial felt almost hot to the touch. But also, undamaged. Pulling my loose tattered shirt tightly around me, I closed my eyes wanting to quickly fall asleep.

Quiet creaking pulled me out of a light doze. Bleary-eyed I could see the door ajar, and then heard footsteps crossing the floor. They stopped below my bunk. Vibrations of someone climbing up the beds rippled beneath me. Fear, meanwhile, reached down my throat and into my gullet twisting my insides. They were coming for me. Suddenly, a hand clamped over my mouth. Frantically, I tried to twist away as its owner's head and shoulders appeared from below. That hand held me in place and they leaned close. The twisted mass of hair and dark features, it was Dex. He let go when I calmed bit. Tugging my right hand, "Come on, McKay," he said. "It's time to go."


End file.
